THE FALSE FACES

FURTHER ADVENTURES FROM THE HISTORY OF THE LONE WOLF

BY LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE

1918

CONTENTS

I Out of No Man's Land

II From a British Port

III In the Barred Zone

IV In Deep Waters

V On the Banks

VI Under Suspicion

VII In Stateroom 29

VIII Off Nantucket

IX Sub Sea

X At Base

XI Under the Rose

XII Resurrection

XIII Reincarnation

XIV Defamation

XV Recognition

XVI Au Printemps

XVII Finesse

XVIII Danse Macabre

XIX Force Majeure

XX Riposte

XXI Question

XXII Chicane

XXIII Amnesty

I

OUT OF NO MAN'S LAND

On the muddy verge of a shallow little pool the man lay prone and still, asstill as those poor dead whose broken bodies rested all about him, wherethey had fallen, months or days, hours or weeks ago, in those grim contestswhich the quick were wont insensately to wage for a few charnel yards ofthat debatable ground. 

Alone of all that awful company this man lived and, though he ached withthe misery of hunger and cold and rain-drenched garments, was unharmed. 

Ever since nightfall and a brisk skirmish had made practicable anundetected escape through the German lines, he had been in the open, alternately creeping toward the British trenches under cover of darknessand resting in deathlike immobility, as he now rested, while pistol-lightsand star-shells flamed overhead, flooding the night with ghastly glareand disclosing in pitiless detail that two-hundred-yard ribbon of earth, littered with indescribable abominations, which set apart the combatants. When this happened, the living had no other choice than to ape the dead, lest the least movement, detected by eyes that peered without rest throughloopholes in the sandbag parapets, invite a bullet's blow. 

Now it was midnight, and lights were flaring less frequently, even asrifle-fire had grown more intermittent ... As if many waters might quenchout hate in the heart of man!

For it was raining hard--a dogged, dreary downpour drilling through a heavyatmosphere whose enervation was like the oppression of some malign andinexorable incubus; its incessant crepitation resembling the mutter ofa weary, sullen drum, dwarfing to insignificance the stuttering ofmachine-guns remote in the northward, dominating even a dull thunder ofcannonading somewhere down the far horizon; lowering a vast and shimmeringcurtain of slender lances, steel-bright, close-ranked, between the trenchesand over all that weary land. Thus had it rained since noon, and thus--forwant of any hint of slackening--it might rain for another twelve hours, oreighteen, or twenty-four.... 

The star-rocket, whose rays had transfixed him beside the pool, paled andwinked out in mid-air, and for several minutes unbroken darkness obtainedwhile, on hands and knees, the man crept on toward that gap in the Britishbarbed-wire entanglements which he had marked down ere daylight waned, shaping a tolerably straight course despite frequent detours to avoid theunspeakable. Only once was his progress interrupted--when straining sensesapprised him that a British patrol was taking advantage of the false truceto reconnoitre toward the enemy lines, its approach betrayed by a nearing_squash_ of furtive feet in the boggy earth, the rasp of constrainedrespiration, a muttered curse when someone slipped and narrowly escaped afall, the edged hiss of an officer's whisper reprimanding the offender. Incontinently he who crawled dropped flat to the greasy mud and laymoveless. 

Almost at the same instant, warned by a trail of sparks rising in a longarc from the German trenches, the soldiers imitated his action, and, aslong as those triple stars shone in the murk, made themselves one with himand the heedless dead. Two lay so close beside him that the man could havetouched either by moving a hand a mere six inches; he was at pains to donothing of the sort; he was sedulous to clench his teeth against theirchattering, even to hold his breath, and regretted that he might not mutethe thumping of his heart. Nor dared he stir until, the lights fading out, the patrol rose and skulked onward. 

Thereafter his movements were less stealthy; with a detachment of theirown abroad in No Man's Land, the British would refrain from shooting atshadows. One had now to fear only German bullets in event the patrol werediscovered. 

Rising, the man slipped and stumbled on in semi-crouching posture, readyto flatten to earth as soon as any one of his many overshoulder glancesdetected another sky-spearing flight of sparks. But this necessity he wasspared; no more lights were discharged before he groped through the wiresto the parapet, with almost uncanny good luck, finding the very spot wherethe British had come over the top, indicated by protruding uprights of arough wooden scaling ladder. 

As he turned, felt with a foot for the uppermost rung, and began todescend, he was saluted by a voice hoarse with exposure, from the blackbowels of the trench:

"Blimy! but ye're back in a 'urry! Wot's up? Forget to put perfume on yerpocket-'andkerchief--or wot?"

The man's response, if he made any, was lost in a heavy splash as his feetslipped on the slimy rungs, delivering him precipitately into a knee-deepstream of foul water which moved sluggishly through the trench like thecurrent of a half-choked sewer--a circumstance which neither suprised himnor added to his physical discomfort, who could be no more wet or defiledthan he had been. 

Floundering to a foothold, he cast about vainly for a clue to the other'swhereabouts; for if the night was thick in the open, here in the trenchits density was as that of the pit; the man could distinguish positivelynothing more than a pallid rift where the walls opened overhead. 

"Well, sullen, w'ere's yer manners? Carn't yer answer a civil question?"

Turning toward the speaker, the man replied in good if rather carefullyenunciated English:

"I am not of your comrades. I am come from the enemy trenches. "

"The 'ell yer are! 'Ands up!"

The muzzle of a rifle prodded the man's stomach. Obediently he lifted bothhands above his head. A thought later, he was half blinded by the suddenspot-light of an electric flash-lamp. 

"Deserter, eh? You kamerad--wot?"

"Kamerad!" the man echoed with an accent of contempt. "I am no German--Iam French. I have come through the Boche lines to-night with importantinformation which I desire to communicate forthwith to your commandingofficer. "

"Strike me!" his catechist breathed, skeptical. 

There was a new sound of splashing in the trench. A third voice chimed in:"'Ello? Wot's all the row abaht?"

"Step up and tike a look for yerself. 'Ere's a blighter wot sez 'e's comfrom the Germ trenches with important information for the O. C. "

"Bloody liar, " the newcomer commented dispassionately. "Mind yer eye. Likely it's just another pl'yful little trick of the giddy Boche. 'Ereyou!" The splashing drew nearer. "Wot's yer gime? Speak up if yer don'twant a bullet through yer in'ards. "

"I play no game, " the man said patiently. "I am unarmed--your prisoner, ifyou like. "

"I like, all right. Mike yer mind easy abaht that. But wot's all this'important information'?"

"I shall divulge that only to the proper authorities. Be good enough toconduct me to your commanding officer without more delay. "

"Wot do yer mike of 'im, corp'ril?" the first soldier enquired. "'Ow abahtan inch or two o' the bay'net to loosen 'is tongue?"

After a moment's hesitation in perplexed silence, the corporal took theflash-lamp from the private and with its beam raked the prisoner from headto foot, gaining little enlightenment from this review of a tall, sparefigure clothed in the familiar gray overcoat of the German private--itsface a mere mask of mud through which shone eyes of singular brilliance andsteadiness, the eyes of a man of intelligence, determination, and courage. 

"Keep yer 'ands 'igh, " the corporal advised curtly. "Ginger, you search'im. "

Propping his rifle against the wall of the trench, its butt on thefiring-step just out of water, the private proceeded painstakinglyto examine the person of the prisoner; in course of which process heunbuttoned and threw open the gray overcoat, exposing a shapeless tunic andtrousers of shoddy drab stuff. 

"'E 'asn't got no arms--'e 'asn't got nothink, not so much as 'is blinkin'latch-key. "

"Very good. Get back on yer post. I'll tike charge o' this one. "

Grounding his own rifle, the corporal fixed its bayonet, then employed itin a gesture of unpleasant significance. 

"'Bout fice, " he ordered. "March. Yer can drop yer 'ands--but don't goforgettin' I'm right 'ere be'ind yer. "

In silence the prisoner obeyed, wading down the flooded trench, thespot-light playing on his back, striking sullen gleams from the inky waterthat swirled about his knees, and disclosing glimpses of coated figuresstationed at regular intervals along the firing-step, faces steadfast toloopholes in the parapet. 

Now and again they passed narrow rifts in the walls of the trench, entrances to dugouts betrayed by glimmers of candle-light through thecracks of makeshift doors or the coarse mesh of gunnysack curtains. 

From one of these, at the corporal's summons, a sleepy subaltern stumbledto attend ungraciously to his subordinate's report, and promptly orderedthe prisoner taken on to the regimental headquarters behind the lines. 

A little farther on captive and captor turned off into a narrow andtortuous communication trench. Thereafter for upward of ten minutes theythreaded a labyrinth of deep, constricted, reeking ditches, with so littleto differentiate one from another that the prisoner wondered at the suresense of direction which enabled the corporal to find his way withoutmis-step, with the added handicap of the abysmal darkness. Then, of asudden, the sides of the trench shelved sharply downward, and the twodebouched into a broad, open field. Here many men lay sleeping, with onlywaterproof sheets for protection from that bitter deluge which whipped theearth into an ankle-deep lake of slimy ooze and lent keener accent to theabiding stench of filth and decomposing flesh. A slight hillock stoodbetween this field and the firing-line--where now lively fusilladeswere being exchanged--its profile crowned with a spectral rank ofshell-shattered poplars sharply silhouetted against a sky in whichstar-shells and Verey lights flowered like blooms of hell. 

Here the corporal abruptly commanded his prisoner to halt and himselfpaused and stood stiffly at attention, saluting a group of three officerswho were approaching with the evident intention of entering the trench. Oneof these loosed upon the pair the flash of a pocket lamp. At sight of thegray overcoat all three stopped short. 

A voice with the intonation of habitual command enquired: "What have wehere?"

The corporal replied: "A prisoner, sir--sez 'e's French--come across theopen to-night with important information--so 'e sez. "

The spot-light picked out the prisoner's face. The officer addressed himdirectly. 

"What is your name, my man?"

"That, " said the prisoner, "is something which--like my intelligence--Ishould prefer to communicate privately. "

With a startled gesture the officer took a step forward and peered intentlyinto that mud-smeared countenance. 

"I seem to know your voice, " he said in a speculative tone. 

"You should, " the prisoner returned. 

"Gentlemen, " said the officer to his companions, "you may continue yourrounds. Corporal, follow me with your prisoner. "

He swung round and slopped off heavily through the mud of the open field. 

Behind them the sound of firing in the forward trenches swelled to anuproar augmented by the shrewish chattering of machine-guns. Then a batteryhidden somewhere in the blackness in front of them came into action, barking viciously. Shells whined hungrily overhead. The prisoner glancedback: the maimed poplars stood out stark against a sky washed with waveafter wave of infernal light.... 

Some time later he was conscious of a cobbled way beneath his soddenfootgear. They were entering the outskirts of a ruined village. On eitherhand fragments of walls reared up with sashless windows and gaping doorslike death masks of mad folk stricken in paroxysm. 

Within one doorway a dim light burned; through it the officer made his way, prisoner and corporal at his heels, passing a sentry, then descending aflight of crazy wooden steps to a dank and gloomy cellar, stone-walledand vaulted. In the middle of the cellar stood a broad table at which anorderly sat writing by the light of two candles stuck in the necks of emptybottles. At another table, in a corner, a sergeant and an operator of theSignal Corps were busy with field telephone and telegraph instruments. On ameagre bed of damp and mouldy straw, against the farther wall, several men, orderlies and subalterns, rested in stertorous slumbers. Despite the coldthe atmosphere was a reek of tobacco smoke, sweat, and steam from wetclothing. 

The man at the centre table rose and saluted, offering the commandingofficer a sheaf of scribbled messages and reports. Taking the chair thusvacated, the officer ran an eye over the papers, issued several ordersinspired by them, then turned attention to the prisoner. 

"You may return to your post, corporal. "

The corporal executed a smart about-face and clumped up the steps. Inanswer to the officer's steadfast gaze the prisoner stepped forward andconfronted him across the table. 

"Who are you?"

"My name, " said the prisoner, after looking around to make sure that noneof the other tenants of the cellar was within earshot, "is Lanyard--MichaelLanyard. "

"The Lone Wolf!"

Involuntarily the officer jumped up, almost overturning his chair. 

"That same, " the prisoner affirmed, adding with a grimace of besmirched andemaciated features that was meant for a smile--"General Wertheimer. "

"Wertheimer is not my name. "

"I am aware of that. I uttered it merely to confirm my identity to you; itis the only name I ever knew you by in the old days, when you were in theBritish Secret Service and I a famous thief with a price upon my head, whenyou and I played hide and seek across half Europe and back again--in thedays of Troyon's and 'the Pack, ' the days of De Morbihan and Popinotand.... "

"Ekstrom, " the officer supplied as the prisoner hesitated oddly. 

"And Ekstrom, " the other agreed. 

There was a little silence between the two; then the officer mused aloud:"All dead!"

"All ... But one. "

The officer looked up sharply. "Which--?"

"The last-named. "

"Ekstrom? But we saw him die! You yourself fired the shot that--"

"It was not Ekstrom. Trust that one not to imperil his precious carcasewhen he could find an underling to run the risk for him! I tell you I haveseen Ekstrom within this last month, alive and serving the Fatherland asthe genius of that system of espionage which keeps the enemy advised ofyour every move, down to the least considerable--that system which makes itpossible for the Boche to greet every regiment by name when it moves up toserve its time in your advanced trenches. "

"You amaze me!"

"I shall convince you; I bring intelligence which will enable you to tearapart this web of treason within your own lines and.... "

Lanyard's voice broke. The officer remarked that he wastrembling--trembling so violently that to support himself he must grip theedge of the table with both hands. 

"You are wounded?"

"No--but cold to my very marrow, and faint with hunger. Even the Germansoldiers are on starvation rations, now; the civilians are worse off; andI--I have been over there for years, a spy, a hunted thing, subsisting ascasually as a sparrow!"

"Sit down. Orderly!"

And there was no more talk between these two for a time. Not only did theofficer refuse to hear another word before Lanyard had gorged his fill offood and drink, but an exigent communication from the front, transmittedthrough the trench telephone system, diverted his attention temporarily. 

Gnawing ravenously at bread and meat, Lanyard watched curiously the scenesin the cellar, following, as best he might, the tides of combat; gatheringthat German resentment of a British bombing enterprise (doubtless the workof that same squad which had stolen past him in the gloom of No Man's Land)had developed into a violent attempt to storm the forward trenches. In these a desperate struggle was taking place. Reinforcements wereimperatively wanted. 

Activities at the signallers' table became feverish; the commanding officerstood over it, reading incoming messages as they were jotted down andtaking such action thereupon as his judgment dictated. Orderlies, draggedhalf asleep from their nests of straw, were shaken awake and despatched torouse and rush to the front the troops Lanyard had seen sleeping in theopen field. Other orderlies limped or reeled down the cellar steps, delivered their despatches, and, staggered out through a breach in the wallto have their injuries attended to in the field dressing-station in theadjoining cellar, or else threw themselves down on the straw to fallinstantly asleep despite the deafening din. 

The Boche artillery, seeking blindly to silence the field batteries whosefire was galling their offensive, had begun to bombard the village. Shellsfled shrieking overhead, to break in thunderous bellows. Walls toppledwith appalling crashes, now near at hand, now far. The ebb and flow ofrifle-fire at the front contributed a background of sound not unlike theroaring of an angry surf. Machine-guns gibbered like maniacs. Heavierartillery was brought into play behind the British lines, apparently at nogreat distance from the village; the very flag-stones of the cellar floorquaked to the concussions of big-calibre guns. 

Through the breach in the wall echoed the screams and groans of wounded. The foul air became saturated with a sickening stench of iodoform. Gusts ofwet wind eddied hither and yon. Candles flickered and flared, guttered out, were renewed. Monstrous shadows stole out from black corners, crept alongmouldy walls, crouched, sprang and vanished, or, inscrutably baffled, retreated sullenly to their lairs.... 

For the better part of an hour the struggle continued; then its vigourbegan to wane. The heaviest British metal went out of action; some timelater the field batteries discontinued their activities. The volume offiring in the advance trenches dwindled, was fiercely renewed some half adozen times, died away to normal. Once more the Boche had been beaten back. 

Returning to his chair, the commanding officer rested his elbows upon thetable and bowed his head between his hands in an attitude of profoundfatigue. He seemed to remind himself of Lanyard's presence only at 'cost ofa racking effort, lifting heavy-lidded eyes to stare almost incredulouslyat his face. 

"I presumed you were in America, " he said in dulled accents. 

"I was ... For a time. "

"You came back to serve France?"

Lanyard shook his head. "I returned to Europe after a year, the springbefore the war. "

"Why?"

"I was hunted out of New York. The Boche would not let me be. "

The officer looked startled. "The Boche?"

"More precisely, Herr Ekstrom--to name him as we knew him. But this I didnot suspect for a long time, that it was he who was responsible for mypersecution. I knew only that the police of America, informed of myidentity with the Lone Wolf, sought to deport me, that every avenue toan honourable livelihood was closed. So I had to leave, to try to losemyself. "

"Your wife ... I mean to say, you married, didn't you?"

Lanyard nodded. "Lucy stuck by me till ... The end.... She had a littlemoney of her own. It financed our flight from the States. We made around-about journey of it, to elude surveillance--and, I think, succeeded. "

"You returned to Paris?"

"No: France, like England, was barred to the Lone Wolf.... We settled downin Belgium, Lucy and I and our boy. He was three months old. We found aquiet little home in Louvain--"

The officer interrupted with a low cry of apprehension, Lanyard checked himwith a sombre gesture. "Let me tell you.... 

"We might have been happy. None knew us. We were sufficient unto ourselves. But I was without occupation; it occurred to me that my memoirs mightmake good reading--for Paris; my friends the French are as fond of theircriminals as you English of your actors. On the second of August Ijourneyed to Paris to negotiate with a publisher. While I was away theBoche invaded Belgium. Before I could get back Louvain had been occupied, sacked.... "

He sat for a time in brooding silence; the officer made no attempt torouse him, but the gaze he bent upon the man's lowered head was grave andpitiful. Abruptly, in a level and toneless voice, Lanyard resumed:

"In order to regain my home I had to go round by way of England andHolland. I crossed the Dutch frontier disguised as a Belgian peasant. WhenI reentered Louvain it was to find ... But all the world knows what theblond beast did in Louvain. My wife and little son had vanished utterly. Isearched three months before I found trace of either. Then ... Lucy died inmy arms in a wretched hovel near Aerschot. She had seen our child butcheredbefore her eyes. She herself.... "

Lanyard's hand, that rested on the table, clenched and whitened beneath itsbegrimed skin. His eyes fathomed distances immeasurably removed beyond theconfines of that grim cellar. But he presently continued:

"Ekstrom had accompanied the army of invasion, had seen and recognized Lucyin passing through Louvain. Therefore she and my son were among the firstto be sacrificed.... When I stood over her grave I dedicated my life to theextermination of Ekstrom and all his breed. I have since done things I donot like to think about. But the Prussian spy system is the weaker for mywork.... 

"But Ekstrom I could never find. It was as if he knew I hunted him. He wasseldom twenty-four hours ahead of me, yet I never caught up with him butonce; and then he was too closely guarded.... I pursued him to Berlin, to Potsdam, three times to the western front, to Serbia, once toConstantinople, twice to Petrograd. "

The officer uttered an exclamation of astonishment. Lanyard looked his waywith a depreciatory air. 

"Nothing strange about that. To one of my early training that waseasy--everything was easy but the end I sought.... En passant I collectedinformation concerning the workings of the Prussian spy system. From timeto time I found means to communicate somewhat of this to the Surété inParis. I believe France and England have already profited a little throughmy efforts. They shall profit more, and quickly, when I have told all thatI have to tell.... 

"Of a sudden Ekstrom vanished. Overnight he disappeared from Germany. Afalse lead brought me back to this front. Two days ago I learned he hadbeen sent to America on a secret mission. Knowing that the States havesevered diplomatic relations with Berlin and tremble on the verge of adeclaration of war, we can surmise something of the nature of his mission. I mean to see that he fails.... To follow him to America, making my wayout through Belgium and Holland, pursuing such furtive ways as I must interritory dominated by the Boche, meant much time lost. So I came throughthe lines to-night. Fortune was kind in throwing me into your hands: Icount upon your assistance. As an ex-agent of the Secret Service you are ina position to make smooth my path; as an Englishman, you will advance theinterests of a prospective ally of England if you help me to the limit ofyour ability; for what I mean to do in America will serve that country, byexposing the conspiracies of the Boche across the water, as much as it willserve my private ends. "

The officer's hand fell across the table and closed upon the knotted fistof the Lone Wolf. 

"As an Englishman, " he said simply--"of course. But no less as yourfriend. "

II

FROM A BRITISH PORT

"And one man in his time plays many parts": few more than this sameLanyard. In no way to be identified with the hunted creature who crept intothe British lines out of No Man's Land was the Monsieur Duchemin who, tendays after that wintry midnight, took passage for New York from "a Britishport, " aboard the steamship _Assyrian_. 

André Duchemin was the name inscribed in the credentials furnished him inrecognition of signal assistance rendered the British Secret Service in itstask of scotching the Prussian spy system. And the personality he choseto assume suited well the name. A man of modest and amiable deportment, viewing the world with eyes intelligent and curious, his temper reactingfrom its ways in terms of grave humour, Monsieur Duchemin passed peaceablyon his lawful occasions, took life as he found it, made the best of irksomecircumstances. 

This last idiosyncrasy stood him in good stead. For the _Assyrian_ failedto clear upon her proposed sailing date and for a livelong week thereafterchafed alongside her landing stage, steam up, cargo laden and stowed, nothing lacking but the Admiralty's permission to begin her westboundvoyage--a permission inscrutably withheld, giving rise to a commondiscontent which the passengers dissembled to the various best of theirabilities, that is to say, in most cases thinly or not at all. 

Yet they were none of them unreasonable beings. They had come aboard oneand all keyed up to a high nervous pitch, pardonable in such as must committheir lives to the dread adventure of the barred zone, wanting nothingso much as to get it over with, whatever its upshot. And everlastingprocrastination required them day after day to steel their hearts anewagainst that Terror which followed its furtive ways beneath the leadenwaters of the Channel!

Alone among them this Monsieur Duchemin paraded successfully a false faceof resignation, protesting no predilection whatsoever for a watery grave, no infatuate haste to challenge the Hun upon his chosen hunting-ground. Inthe fullness of time it would be permitted to him to go down to the sea inthis ship. Meanwhile he found it apparently pleasant and restful to explorethe winding cobbled ways of that antiquated waterside community, made overby the hand of War into a bustling seaport, or to tramp the sunken lanesthat seamed those green old Cornish hills which embosomed the wide harbourwaters, or to lounge about the broad white decks of the _Assyrian_ watchingthe diurnal traffic of the haven--a restless, warlike pageant. 

Daily, in earliest dusk of dawn, the wakeful might watch the faring forthof a weirdly assorted fleet of small craft, the day patrol, to relieve anight patrol as weirdly heterogeneous. Daily, at all hours, mine-sweeperscame and went, by twos and twos, in flocks, in schools; and daily bellowingoffshore detonations advertised their success in garnering those hornedblack seeds of death which the Hun and his kin were sedulous to sow in thefairways. While daily battleships both great and small rolled in wearily torefit and dress their wounds, or took swift departure on grim and secreterrands. 

There was, moreover, the not-infrequent spectacle of some minor ship ofwar--a truculent, gray destroyer as like as not--shepherding in a sleeksubmarine, like a felon whale armoured and strangely caparisoned ingray-brown steel, to be moored in chains with a considerable company of itsfellows on the far side of the roadstead, while its crew was taken ashoreand consigned to some dark limbo of oblivion. 

And once, with a light cruiser snapping at her heels, a drab Norwegiantramp plodded sullenly into port, a mine-layer caught red-handed, plyingits assassin's trade beneath a neutral flag. 

Not long after its crew had been landed, volleys of musketry crashed in thetown gaol-yard. 

One of a group of three idling on the promenade deck of the _Assyrian_, Lanyard turned sharply and stared through narrowed eyelids into the quarterwhence the sounds reverberated. 

The man at his side, a loose-jointed American of the commercial caste, paused momentarily in his task of masticating a fat dark cigar. 

"This way out, " he commented thoughtfully. 

Lanyard nodded; but the third, a plumply ingratiative native of Geneva, known to the ship as Emil Dressier, frowned in puzzlement. 

"Pardon, Monsieur Crane, but what is that you say--'this way out'?"

"Simply, " Crane explained, "I take the firing to mean the execution of ournootral friends from Norway. "

The Swiss shuddered. "It is most terrible!"

"Well, I don't know about that. They done their damnedest to fix it for usto drown somewhere out there in the nice, cold English Channel. I'm just assatisfied it's them, instead, with their backs to a stone wall in thewarm sunlight, getting their needin's. That's only justice. Eh, MonsieurDuchemin?"

"It is war, " said Lanyard with a shrug. 

"And war is ... No: Sherman was all wrong. Hell's got perfectly goodgrounds for a libel suit against William Tecumseh for what he up and saidabout it and war, all in the same breath. "

Lanyard smiled faintly, but Dressler pondered this obscure reference withpatent distress. Crane champed his cigar reflectively. 

"What's more to our purpose, " he said presently: "I shouldn't be surprisedif this meant the wind-up of our rest-cure here. That's the thirdmine-layer they've collected this week--two subs, and now this benevolentnootral. Am I right, Monsieur Duchemin?"

"Who knows?" Lanyard replied with a smile. "Even now the mine-sweepingflotilla is coming home, as you see; which means, the neighbouring watershave been cleared. It is altogether a possibility that we may be permittedto depart this night. "

Even so the event: as that day's sun declined amid a portentous welter ofcrimson and purple and gold, the moorings were cast off and the _Assyrian_warped out into mid-channel and anchored there for the night. 

Inasmuch as she was to sail as the tide served, some time before sunrise, the passengers were advised to seek their berths at an early hour. Thirtyminutes before the steamship entered the danger zone (as she would soonafter leaving the harbour) they would be roused and were expected promptlyto assemble on deck, with life-preservers, and station themselves near theboats to which they were individually assigned. 

For their further comforting they were treated, in the ebb of the chillblue twilight, to boat-drill and final instructions in the right adjustmentof life-belts. 

A preoccupied company assembled in the dining saloon for what might beits last meal. In the shadow of the general apprehension, conversationlanguished; expressions of relief on the part of those who had been loudestin complaining at the delays were notably unheard; even Crane, Lanyard'snearest neighbour at table, was abnormally subdued. Reviewing that array ofsobered and anxious faces, Lanyard remarked--not for the first time, butwith renewed gratitude--that in all the roster of passengers none werechildren and but two were women: the American widow of an English officerand her very English daughter, an angular and superior spinster. 

Avoiding the customary post-prandial symposium in the smoking room, Lanyardslipped away with his cigar for a lonely turn on deck. 

Beneath a sky heavily canopied, the night was stark black and loud withclashing waters. A fitful wind played in gusts now grim, now groping, likea lost thing blundering blindly about in that deep darkness. Ashore afew wan lights, widely spaced, winked uncertainly, withdrawn in vastremoteness; those near at hand, of the anchored shipping, skipped andswayed and flickered in mad mazes of goblin dance. To him who paced thosevacant, darkened decks, the sense of dissociation from all the common, kindly phenomena of civilization was something intimate and inescapable. Melancholy as well rode upon that black-winged wind. 

At pause beneath the bridge, the adventurer rested elbows upon the teakwoodrail and with importunate eyes searched the masked face of his destiny. There was great fear in his heart, not of death, but lest death overtakehim before that scarlet hour when he should encounter the man whom he mustalways think of as "Ekstrom. "

After that, nothing would matter: let Death come then as swiftly as itwilled.... 

He was not even middle-aged, on the hither side of thirty; yet his attitudewas that of one who had already crossed the great divide of the averagemortal span: he looked backward upon a life, never forward to one. To himhis history seemed a thing written, lacking the one word Finis: he hadlived and loved and lost--had arrayed himself insolently against God andMan, had been lifted toward the light a little way by a woman's love, hadbeen thrust relentlessly back into the black pit of his damnation. He madeno pretense that it was otherwise with him: remained now merely the thinghe had been in the beginning, minus that divine spark which love had oncekindled into consuming aspiration toward the right; the Lone Wolf prowledagain to-day and would henceforth forevermore, the beast of prey callousto every human emotion, animated by one deadly purpose, existing but todestroy and be in turn destroyed.... 

Two decks below, about amidships, a cargo port was thrust open to thenight. A thick, broad beam of light leaped out, buffeting the murk, striking evanescent glimmers from the rocking facets of the waters. Deckhands busied themselves rigging out an accommodation ladder. A tenderof little tonnage panted nervously up out of nowhere and was made fastalongside. The light raked its upper deck, picking out in passing a groupof men in uniforms. Fugitively something resembling a petticoat snappedin the wind. Then several persons moved toward the accommodation ladder, climbed it, disappeared through the cargo port. The wearer of the petticoatdid not accompany them. 

Lanyard noted these matters subconsciously, for the time altogetherpreoccupied, casting forward his thoughts along those dim trails his feetmust tread who followed his dark star.... 

Ten minutes later a deck-steward found him, and paused, touching his cap. 

"Beg pardon, sir, but all passingers is requested to report immedately inthe music room. "

Indifferently Lanyard thanked the man and went below, to find the musicroom tenanted by a full muster of his fellow passengers, all more or lessindignantly waiting to be cross-examined by the party of port officialsfrom the tender--the ship's purser standing by together with the second andthird officers and a number of stewards. 

Resentment was not unwarranted: already, before being suffered to take upquarters on board the _Assyrian_, each passenger had submitted to a mostcomprehensive survey of his credentials, his mental, moral, and socialstatus, his past record, present affairs, and future purposes. A formalityto be expected by all such as travel in war time, it had been rigid butmild in contrast with this eleventh-hour inquisition--a proceeding sodrastic and exhaustive that the only plausible inference was officialdetermination to find excuse for ordering somebody ashore in irons. Nothingwas overlooked: once passports and other proofs of identity had beenscrutinized, each passenger was conducted to his stateroom and his personand luggage subjected to painstaking search. None escaped; on the otherhand, not one was found guilty of flagitious peculiarity. In the upshot theinquisitors, baffled and betraying every symptom of disappointment, werefain to give over and return to their tender. 

By this time Lanyard, one of the last to be grilled and passed, foundhimself as little inclined for sleep as the most timorous soul on board. Selecting an American novel from the ship's library, he repaired tothe smoking room, where, established in a corner apart, he became aninvoluntary and, at first, a largely inattentive, eavesdropper upon ananimated debate involving some eight or ten gentlemen at a table in themiddle of the saloon--its subject, the recent visitation. 

Measures so extraordinary were generally held to indicate an incentive moreextraordinary still. 

"You can't get away from it, " he heard Crane declare: "there's some sort offunny business going on, or liable to go on, aboard this ship. She wasn'theld up for a solid week out of pure cussedness. Neither did they comeaboard to-night to give us another once-over through sheer voluptuousness. There's a reason. "

"And what, " a satiric English voice enquired, "do you assume that reason tobe?"

"Search me. 'Sfar's I'm concerned the processes of the British IntelligenceOffice are a long sight past finding out. "

"It is simple enough, " one of Crane's compatriots suggested: "the_Assyrian_ is suspected of entertaining a devil unawares. "

"Monsieur means--?" the Swiss enquired. 

"I mean, the authorities may have been led to believe some one of us aquestionable character. "

"German spy?"

"Possibly. "

"Or an English traitor?"

"Impossible, " asserted another Briton heavily. "There is to-day no suchthing in England. Two years ago the supposition might have been plausible. But that breed has long since been stamped out--in England. "

"Another guess, " Crane cut in: "they've taken considerable trouble to clearthe track for us. Maybe it occurred to somebody at the last moment to makesure none of us was likely to pull off an inside job. "

"'Inside job?'" Dressler pleaded. 

"Planting bombs in the coal bunkers--things like that--anything to crab ourgetting through the barred zone in spite of mines and U-boats. "

"Any such attempt would mean almost certain death!"

"What of it? It's been tried before--and got away with. You've got to handit to Fritz, he'll risk hell-for-breakfast cheerful any time he gets it inhis bean he's serving Gott und Vaterland. "

"Granted, " said the Englishman. "But I fancy such an one would find it farfrom easy to secure passage upon this or any other vessel. "

"How so? You may have haltered all your traitors, but there's stilla-plenty German spies living in England. Even you admit that. And if theycan get by your Secret Service, to say nothing of Scotland Yard, what's toprevent their fixing to leave the country?"

"Nothing, certainly. But I still contend it is hardly likely. "

"Of course it's hardly likely. Look at these guys to-night--dead set onmaking an awful example of anybody that couldn't come clean. I didn'tnotice them missing any bets. They combed me to the Queen's taste; fora while I was sure scared they'd extract my pivot tooth to see if therewasn't something incriminating and degrading secreted inside it. And nobodygot off any easier. _I_ say the good ship _Assyrian_ has a pretty cleanbill of health to go sailing with. "

"On the other hand"--yet another American voice was speaking--"no spy orcriminal worth his salt would try to ship without preparations thoroughenough to insure success, barring accidents. "

"Criminal?" drawled the Briton incredulously. 

"The enterprisin' burglar keeps a-burglin', even in war time. There havebeen notable burglaries in London of late, according to your newspapers. "

"And you think the thief would attempt to smuggle his loot out of thecountry aboard such a ship as this?"

"Why not?"

"Scotland Yard to the contrary notwithstanding?"

"If Scotland Yard is as efficient as you think, sir, certainly any sanethief would make every effort to leave a country it was making too hot forhim. "

"Considerable criminal!" Crane jeered. 

"Undeceive yourself, señor. " This was a Brazilian, a quiet little dark bodywho commonly contented himself with a listening rôle in the smoking-roomdiscussions. "There are truly criminals of intelligence. And war conditionsare driving them out of Europe. "

Of a sudden Lanyard--stretched out at length upon the leather cushions, in full view of these gossips--became aware that he was being closelyscrutinised. By whom, with what reason or purpose, he could not surmise;and it were unwise to look up from that printed page. But that sixth senseof his--intuition, what you will--that exquisitively sensitive sentineladmonished that at least one person in the room was watching him narrowly. 

Though he made no move other than to turn a page, his glance followedblindly blurring lines of text, and his quickened wits overlooked no shadeof meaning or intonation as that talk continued. 

"A criminal of intelligence, " some one observed, "is a giddy paradox whosefatuous existence is quite fittingly confined to the realm of fable. "

"You took the identical words right out of my mouth, " Crane complainedbitterly. 

"Your pardon, señores: history confutes your incredulity. "

"But we are talking about to-day. "

"Even to-day--can you deny it?--men attain high places by means which thelaw would construe as criminal, were they not intelligent enough to outwitit. "

"Big game, " Crane objected; "something else again. What we contend is noman of ordinary common sense could get his own consent to crack a safe, orpick a pocket, or do second-story work, or pull any rough stuff like that. "

"Again you overlook living facts, " persisted the Brazilian. 

"Name one--just one. "

"The Lone Wolf, then. "

"Unnatural history is out of my line, " Crane objected. "Why is a lone wolf, anyway?"

The Brazilian's voice took on an accent of exasperation. "Señores, I do notjest. I am a student of psychology, more especially of criminal psychology. I lived long in Paris before this war, and took deep interest in the caseof the Lone Wolf. "

"Well, you've got me all excited. Go on with your story. "

"With much pleasure.... This gentleman, then, this Michael Lanyard, as hecalled himself, was a distinguished Parisian figure, a man of extraordinaryattainment, esteemed the foremost connoisseur d'art in all Europe. Suddenly, at the zenith of his career, he disappeared. Subsequently itbecame known that he had been identical with that great Parisian criminal, the Lone Wolf, a superman of thieves who had plundered all Europe withunvarying success for almost a decade. "

"Then what made the silly ass quit?"

"According to my information, he won the love of a young woman--"

"And reformed for her sake, of course?"

"To the contrary, señor; Lanyard renounced his double life because of atheory on which he had founded his astonishing success. According to thistheory, any man of intelligence may defy society as long as he will, alwaysproviding he has no friend, lover, or confederate in whom to confide. A manself-contained can never be betrayed; the stupid police seldom apprehendeven the most stupid criminal, save through the treachery of some intimate. This Lanyard proved his theory by confounding not only the utmostefforts of the police but even the jealous enmity of that association ofContinental criminals known as the Bande Noire--until he became a lover. Then he proved his intelligence: in one stroke he flouted the police, delivered into their hands the inner circle of the Bande Noire, andvanished with the woman he loved. "

"And then--?"

"The rest, " said the Brazilian, "is silence. "

"It is for to-night, anyway, " Crane observed, yawning. "It's bedtime. Herecomes the busy steward to put the lights and us out. "

There was a general stir; men drained glasses, knocked out pipes, got up, murmured good-nights. Lanyard closed the American novel upon a forefinger, looked up abstractedly, rose, moved toward the door. The utmost effort ofexceptional powers of covert observation assured him that, at the moment, none of the company favoured him with especial attention; the author ofthat interest whose intensity had so weighed upon his consciousness hadbeen swift to dissemble. 

On his way forward he exchanged bows and smiles with Crane and one or twoothers, his gesture completely casual. Yet when he entered the starboardalleyway he carried with him a complete catalogue of those who hadcontributed to the conversation. With all, thanks to seven days'association, he stood on terms of shipboard acquaintance. Not one, in hisesteem, was more potentially mischievous than any other--not even theBrazilian Velasco, though he had been the first to name the Lone Wolf. 

It was, furthermore, quite possible that the mention of his erstwhilesobriquet had been utterly fortuitous. 

And yet, one might not forget that sensation of being under intentsurveillance.... 

In his stateroom Lanyard stood for several minutes gravely peering into themirror above the washstand. 

The face he scanned was lean and worn in feature, darkly weathered, framedin hair whose jet already boasted an accent of silver at either temple--theface of a man inured to hardship, seasoned in suffering, strong inself-knowledge. The incandescence of an intelligence coldly dispassionate, quick and shrewd, lighted those dark eyes. Distinctively a face of Galliccast, three years of long-drawn torment had served in part to erase fromit wellnigh all resemblance to both the brilliant social freebooter ofante-bellum Paris and that undesirable alien whom the authorities hadsought to deport from the States. Amazing facility in impersonation haddone the rest; unrecognisable as what he had been, he was to-day flawlesslythe incarnation of what he elected to seem--Monsieur Duchemin, gentleman, of Paris. 

Impossible to believe his disguise had been so soon penetrated.... 

And yet, again, that gossip of the smoking room.... 

Police work? Or had Ekstrom's creatures picked up his trail once more?

Beneath that urbane mask of his, a hunted, wild thing poised in question, mistrustful of the very wind, prick-eared, fangs agleam, eyes grimlyapprehensive.... 

A little sound, the least of metallic clicks, breaking the hush of hissolitude, froze the adventurer to attention. Only his glance swervedswiftly to a fastened door in the forward partition--his stateroom beingthe aftermost of three that might be thrown together to form a suite. Thenickeled knob was being tried with infinite precaution. On the half turn itchecked with a faint repetition of the click. Then the door itself quiveredalmost imperceptibly to pressure, though it yielded not a fraction of aninch. 

Lanyard's eyes hardened. He did not stir from where he stood, but one handwhipped an automatic from his pocket while the other darted out to theswitch-box by the head of his berth and extinguished the light. 

Instantly a glimmer of light in the forward stateroom showed througha narrow strip of iron grill-work set in the top of the partition forventilating purposes. 

Simultaneously the door-knob was gently released, and with another louderclick the light in the adjoining cubicle was blotted out. 

Mystified, Lanyard undressed and turned in, but not to sleep--not for alittle, at least. 

Who might this neighbour be who tried his door so stealthily? Beforeto-night that room had had no tenant. Apparently one of the passengers hadseen fit to shift his quarters. To what end? To keep a jealous eye onthe Lone Wolf, perhaps? So much the better, then: Lanyard need only makeenquiry in the morning to identify his enemy. 

Deliberately closing his eyes, he dismissed the enigma. He possessed inmarked degree that attribute of genius, ability to command slumber at will. Swiftly the troubled deeps of thought grew calm; on their placid surfaceinconsequent visions were mirrored darkly, fugitive scenes from the storeof subconscious memory: Crane's lantern-jawed physiognomy, keen eyessemi-veiled by humorously drooping lids, the extreme corner of his mouthbulging round his everlasting cigar ... Grimy lions in Trafalgar Square ofa rainy afternoon ... The octagonal room of L'Abbaye Thêléme at three inthe morning, a swirl of Bacchanalian shapes ... Wertheimer's soldierlyfigure beside the telegraphers' table in that noisome cave at the Front ... The deck of a tender in darkness swept by a shaft of yellow light whichmomentarily revealed a group of folk with upturned faces, a petticoatfluttering in its midst.... 

III

IN THE BARRED ZONE

Day broke with rather more than half a gale blowing beneath a louring sky. Once clear of the bottleneck mouth of the harbour, the _Assyrian_ ran intobrutal quartering seas. An old hand at such work, for upward of a decadea steady-paced Dobbin of the transatlantic lanes, she buckled down to itdoggedly and, remembering her duty by her passengers, rolled no more thanshe had to, buried her nose in the foaming green only when she must. Forall her care, the main deck forward was alternately raked by stingingvolleys of spray and scoured by frantic cascades. More than once the crewof the bow gun narrowly escaped being carried overboard to a man. Blue withcold, soaked to the buff despite oilskins, they stuck stubbornly to theirposts. Perched beyond reach of shattering wavecrests, the passengers on theboat-deck huddled unhappily in the lee of the superstructure--and snarledin response to the cheering information that better conditions for bafflingthe ubiquitous U-boat could hardly have been brewed by an indulgentProvidence. Sheeting spindrift contributed to lower visibility: twodestroyers standing on parallel courses about a mile distant to port andto starboard were more often than not barely discernible, spectral vesselsreeling and dipping in the haze. The ceaseless whistle of wind in therigging was punctuated by long-drawn howls which must have filled anyconscientious banshee with corrosive envy. 

Toward mid-morning rain fell in torrents, driving even the most fearfulpassengers to shelter within the superstructure. A majority crowded thelanding at the head of the main companionway close by the leeward door. Bolder spirits marched off to the smoking room--Crane starting thismovement with the declaration that, for his part, he would as lief drownlike a rat in a trap as battling to keep up in the frigid inferno of thoseraging seas. A handful of miserables, too seasick to care whether the shipswam or sank, mutinously took to their berths. 

Stateroom 27--adjoining Lanyard's--sported obstinately a shut door. Lanyard, sedulous not to discover his interest by questioning the stewards, caught never a glimpse of its occupant. For his own satisfaction he took acovert census of passengers on deck as the vessel entered the danger zone, and made the tally seventy-one all told--the number on the passenger listwhen the _Assyrian_ had left her landing stage the previous evening. 

It seemed probable, therefore, that the person in 27 had come aboard fromthe tender, either with or following the official party. Lanyard wasunable to say that more had not left the tender than appeared to sit ininquisition in the music room. 

By noon the wind was beginning to moderate, and the sea was being beatendown by that relentlessly lashing rain. Visibility, however, was more lowthan ever. A fairly representative number descended to the dining saloonfor luncheon--a meal which none finished. Midway in its course a thunderousexplosion to starboard drove all in panic once more to the decks. 

Within two hundred yards of the _Assyrian_ a floating mine had destroyed apatrol boat. No more was left of it than an oil-filmed welter of splinteredwreckage: of its crew, never a trace. 

Imperturbably the _Assyrian_ proceeded. Not so her passengers: now thesmoking room was deserted even by the insouciant Crane, and the seasick toa woman brought their troubles back to the boat-deck. 

Alone the tenant of 27 stopped below. And the riddle of this ostensibleindifference to terrors that clawed at the vitals of every other soul onboard grew to intrigue Lanyard to the point of obsession. Was the reasonbrute apathy or sheer foolhardihood? He refused either explanation, feeling sure some darker and more momentous motive dictated this obstinateavoidance of the public eye. Exasperation aroused by failure to fathom themystery took precedence in his thoughts even to the personal solicitudeexcited by last night's gossip of the smoking room.... 

With no other disturbing incident the afternoon wore away, the windsteadily flagging, the waves as steadily subsiding. When twilight closed inthere was nothing more disturbing to one's equilibrium than a sea of longand sullen rolls scored by the pelting downpour. 

Perhaps as many as ten venturesome souls dined in the saloon, their fellowssticking desperately to the decks and contenting themselves with coffee andsandwiches. 

Daylight waned, terrors waxed: passengers instinctively gravitated intolittle knots and clusters, conversing guardedly as if fearful lest theirnormal accents bring down upon them those Apaches of the underseas forsigns of whom their frightened glances incessantly ranged over-rail andsearched the heaving wastes. 

The understanding was tacit that all would spend the night on deck. 

Dusk at length blotted out the shadows of their guardian destroyers, and agreat and desolating loneliness settled down upon the ship. One by onethe passengers grew dumb; still they clung together, but seemingly theirtongues would no more function. 

With nightfall, the rain ceased, the breeze freshened a trifle, the pall ofcloud lifted and broke, giving glimpses of remote, impersonal stars. Latera gibbous moon leered through the flying wrack, checkering the sea witha restless pattern of black and silver. In this ghastly setting the_Assyrian_, showing no lights, a shape of flying darkness pursuing a coursesecret to all save her navigators, strained ever onward, panting, groaning, quivering from stem to stern ... Like an enchanted thing doomed toperpetual labours, striving vainly to break bonds invisible that transfixedher to one spot forever-more, in the midst of that bleak purgatory ofshadow and moonshine and dread.... 

Sensitive to the eerie influence of the hour, Lanyard interrupted the tourof the decks which he had steadily pursued for the better part of theevening, and rested at the forward rail, looking down over the main deck, its bleached planking dotted with dark shapes of fixed machinery. In thebows the formless, uncouth bulk of the gun squatted in its tarpaulin. Itscrew tramped heavily to and fro, shivering in heavy jackets, hands inpockets, shoulders hunched up to ears. Farther aft an iron door clangedheavily behind a sailor emerging from an alleyway; he approached the ship'sbell, with practised hand sounded two double strokes, then turned and sangout in the weird minor traditional in his calling:

"_Four bells--and a-a-all's well_!"

Even as the wind made free with the melancholy echoes of that assurance, the spell upon the ship was exorcised. 

Overhead, from the foremast crow's-nest, a voice screamed, hoarsely urgent:

"_Torpedo! 'Ware submarine to port_!"

Many things happened simultaneously, or in a span of seconds strangelyscant. The gunners sprang to station, whipping away the tarpaulin, whiletheir lieutenant focussed binoculars upon the confused distances of thenight. Obedient to his instructions, the long, gleaming tube of steelpivoted smoothly to port. 

From the bridge a signal rocket soared, hissing. The whistle loosedstentorian squalls of indignation and distress--one long and four short. Commands were shouted; the engine-room telegraph wrangled madly. Themomentum of the _Assyrian_ was checked startlingly; her bows sheeredsmartly off to port. 

A rumour of frightened voices and pounding feet came from the leewardboat-deck, where the main body of the passengers was congregated, hiddenfrom Lanyard by the shoulder of the foreward deck-house. A number of menran forward, paused by the rail, stared, and scurried back, yelling inalarm. At this the din swelled to uproar. 

Scanning closely the surface of the sea, Lanyard himself descried a silveryarrow of spray lancing the swells, making with deadly speed toward the portbow of the _Assyrian_. But now both screws were churning full speed astern;the vessel lost headway altogether. Then her engines stopped. For abreathless instant she rested inert, like something paralyzed with fright, bows-on to the torpedo, the telegraph ringing frantically. Then thestarboard screw began to turn full ahead, the port remaining idle. Thebows swung off still more sharply to port. The torpedo shot in under them, vanished for a breathless moment, reappeared a boat's-length to starboard, plunged harmlessly on its unhindered way down the side of the vessel, anddisappeared astern. 

Amidships terrified passengers milled like sheep, hampering the work of theboat-crews at the davits. Ship's officers raged among them, endeavouringto restore order. Half a mile or so dead ahead a tiny tongue of flame spatviciously in the murk. A projectile shrieked overhead, and dropped into thesea astern. Another followed and fell short. 

The U-boat was shelling the _Assyrian_. 

The forward gun barked violent expostulation, if without visible effect;the submarine lobbing two more shells at the steamship with an indifferenceto its own peril astonishing in one of its craven breed, trained to strikeand run before counterstroke may be delivered. Its extraordinary temerity, indeed, argued ignorance of the convoying destroyers. 

Coincident with the second shot, however, these unleashed searchlightsslashed the dark through and through with their great, white, fanlikeblades, till first one then the other picked up and steadied relentlesslyupon a toy-boat shape that swam the swells about midway between the_Assyrian_ and the destroyer off the port bows. 

Simultaneously the quickfirers of the latter went into action, jettingorange flame. In the searchlights' glare, spurts of white water danced allround the submarine. A mutter of gunfire rolled over to the _Assyrian_, abruptly silenced by an imperative deep voice of heavier metal--which spokebut once. 

With the lurid unreality of clap-trap theatrical illusion the U-boatvomited a great, spreading sheet of flame.... 

Someone at the rail, near Lanyard's shoulder, uttered a hushed cry ofhorror. 

He paid no heed, his interest wholly focussed upon that distant patch ofshining water. As his dazzled vision cleared he saw that the submarine haddisappeared. 

Unconsciously, in French, he commented: "So that is finished!"

Likewise in French, but in a woman's voice of uncommon quality, deepand bell-sweet, came the protest from the passenger at his side: "But, monsieur, what are we doing? We turn away from them--those poor thingsdrowning there!"

That was quite true: under forced draught the _Assyrian_ was heading awayon a new course. 

"They drown out there in that black water--and we leave them to that!"

Lanyard turned. "The destroyers will take care of them, " he said--"if anysurvived that explosion with strength enough to swim. "

He spoke from the surface of his thoughts and with a calm that veiledprofound surprise. The woman by his side was neither the American widow norher English daughter, but wholly a stranger to the ship's company he knew. 

The training of the Lone Wolf had been wasted if one swift glance hadfailed to comprehend every essential detail: that tall, straight, slenderfigure cloaked in the folds of a garment whose hood framed a face ofsingular pallor and sweetness in the moonlight, its shadowed eyes wide withemotion, its lips a little parted.... 

With a shiver she lifted her hands to her eyes as if to darken the visionsof her imagination. 

"They die out there, " she said, in murmurs barely audible.... "We turn ourbacks on them.... You think that right?"

"We play the game by the rules the enemy himself laid down, " Lanyardreturned. "They would have sunk us without one qualm of pity--would, in allprobability, have shelled our boats had any succeeded in getting off. Theyhave done as much before, and will again. It is out of reason to insistthat the captain risk his ship in the hope of picking up one or twodrowning assassins. "

"Risk his ship? How? They are helpless--"

"As a rule, U-boats hunt in pairs; always, when specially charged to sinkone certain vessel. It was so with the _Lusitania_, with the _Arabic_ aswell; I don't doubt it was so in this instance--that we should have heardfrom a second submarine had not the destroyers opened fire when they did. "

The woman stared. "You think that--?"

"That the Boche had specific instructions to waylay and sink the_Assyrian_? I begin to think that--yes. "

This declaration affected the woman curiously; she shrank away a little, asfrom a blow, her eyes winced, her pale lips quivered. When she spoke, itwas, strangely enough, in English so naturally enunciated that Lanyardcould not doubt that this was her mother tongue. 

"Then you think it is because.... "

Of a sudden she wilted, clinging to the rail and trembling wildly. 

Lanyard shot a glance aft. The disorder among the passengers was measurablyless, though excitement still ran so high that he felt sure they were asyet unnoticed. On impulse he stepped nearer. 

"Pardon, mademoiselle, " he said quietly; "you are excusably unstrung. But all danger is past; and there is still time to regain your stateroomunobserved. If you will permit me to escort you.... "

He watched her narrowly, but she showed no surprise at this suggestion ofintimacy with her affairs. After a brief moment she pulled herself togetherand dropped a hand upon the arm he offered. In another minute he washelping her over the raised watersill of the door. 

Like all the ship the landing and main companionway were dark; but below, on the promenade deck, the second doorway aft on the starboard side stoodajar, affording a glimpse of a dimly lighted stateroom. 

With neither hesitation nor surprise--for he was already satisfied in thismatter--Lanyard conducted the woman to this door and stopped. 

Her hand fell from his arm. She faltered on the threshold of Stateroom 27, eyeing him dubiously. 

"Thank you, monsieur... ?"

There was just enough accent of enquiry to warrant his giving her the name:"Duchemin, mademoiselle. "

"Monsieur Duchemin.... Please to tell me how you knew this was mystateroom?"

"I occupy Stateroom 29. There was no one in 27 till after the tender cameout last night. Furthermore, your face was strange, and I have come to knowall others on board during our week's delay in port. "

The light was at her back; he could distinguish little of her shadowedfeatures, but fancied her a bit discountenanced. 

In a subdued voice she said, "Thank you, " once more, a hand restingsignificantly on the door-knob. But still he lingered. 

"If mademoiselle would be so good as to tell me something in return--?"

"If I can.... "

"Then why, mademoiselle, did you try my door last night?"

"It was neither locked nor bolted on my side. I wished to make sure--"

"So one fancied. Thank you. Good-night, mademoiselle... ?"

She was impervious to his hint. "Good-night, Monsieur Duchemin, " she said, and closed the door. 

Now Lanyard's quarters opened not on this alleyway fore-and-aft but on ashort and narrow athwartship passage. And as he turned away he saw out ofthe corner of an eye a white-jacketed figure emerge from this passagewayand move hurriedly aft. Something furtive in the round of the fellow'sshoulders challenged his curiosity. He called quietly:

"Steward!"

There was no answer. By now the white jacket was no more than a blur movingin that deep gloom. He cried again, more loudly:

"I say, steward!"

He could hardly see, but fancied that the man quickened his steps: inanother instant he vanished altogether. 

Smothering an impulse to give chase, the adventurer swung alertly into thenarrow passage and opened the door to Stateroom 29. The room was dark, butas he fumbled for the switch, the door in the forward partition was thrustopen and the girl's slight figure showed, tensely poised against the lightbehind her. 

"Monsieur Duchemin!" she cried, in a voice sharp with doubt. 

Lanyard turned the switch. "Mademoiselle, " he said, and coolly crossed tothe port, drawing the light-proof curtains. 

"This door was locked all day--locked when the firing alarmed me and I wentout to the deck. "

"And on my side, mademoiselle, it was locked and bolted when last I washere, shortly before dinner. " "Whoever unfastened it entered my room duringmy absence and tampered with my luggage. "

"You have missed something?"

Gaze intent to his she nodded. He shrugged and cast shrewdly round hisquarters for some clue to the enigma. His glance fastened on a leatherbellows-bag beneath the berth. Dropping to his knees he pulled this out, and looked up with a quizzical grimace, his forefinger indicating the lock, which was uncaught. 

"I left this latched but not locked, " he said. "Perhaps I, too, have lostsomething. "

Opening the bag out flat, he sat back on his heels, with practised eyeinspecting its neat arrangement of intimate things. 

"Nothing has been taken, mademoiselle, " he announced gravely. "Butsomething--I think--has been generously added. I seem to have an anonymousadmirer on board. "

Bending forward, he rummaged beneath a sheaf of shirts and brought fortha small jewel-box of grained leather, with a monogram stamped on thelid--"C. B. "

"The lock is broken, " he observed, and handed it up to the woman. "As toits contents, mademoiselle herself knows best.... "

The woman opened the box. 

"Nothing is missing, " she said in a thoughtful voice. 

"I am relieved. " Lanyard closed the bag, thrust it back beneath the berth, and got upon his feet. "But you are quite sure--?"

"My jewels are all in order, " she affirmed, without meeting his gaze. 

"And you miss nothing else?"

"Nothing. "

Was there an accent of hesitation in this response?

"Then, I take it, the thief was disappointed. "

Now she glanced quickly at his eyes. "Why do you say that?"

"If the thief had found what he sought, he would never have presented itto me, mademoiselle would never again have seen her jewels. Failing inhis object, after breaking that lock, and interrupted by your unexpectedreturn, he planted the case with me, hoping to have me suspected. I amfortunately able to prove the best of alibis.... So then, " said Lanyard, smiling, "it would appear that, though we met ten minutes ago for the firsttime--and I have yet to know mademoiselle by name--we are allies in acommon cause. "

"My name is Brooke--Cecelia Brooke, " she said quietly--"if it matters. Butwhy 'allies'?"

"It appears we own a common enemy. Each of us possesses something whichthat one desires--you a secret, I a good name. (Duchemin, indeed, I havealways held to be an excellent name. ) I shall not hesitate to call on youif my treasure is again violated. May I venture to hope mademoiselle willprove as ready to command my services?"

"Thank you. I fancy, however, there will be no need. "

She moved irresolutely toward the communicating door, paused in its frame, eyeing him speculatively from under level brows. He detected, or imagined, a tremor of impulse toward him, as though she faltered on the verge of somegrave confidence. If so, she curbed her tongue in time. Her gaze dropped, fixed itself abstractedly on the door.... "This must be fastened, " shesaid, in a tone of complete disinterest. 

"I will speak to the chief steward immediately. "

"Don't trouble. " She roused. "It doesn't matter, really, for to-night. Ishall leave what valuables I have in the purser's care and stop on decktill daybreak. "

He gave a gesture of bewilderment. "You abandon your seclusion--leave yoursecret unguarded?"

"Why not?" She shrugged slightly with a little _moue_ of discontent. "If, as you assume, I had a secret, it was that for certain reasons I did notwish my presence on board to become known. But it seems it has becomeknown: my secret is no more. So I need no longer risk being cut off fromthe boats in the event of any accident. "

Momentarily her gravity was dissipated by a smile at once delightful andprovocative. 

"Once more, monsieur--good-night!"

After some moments Lanyard, with a start, found himself staring blankly ata blankly incommunicative communicating door. 

IV

IN DEEP WATERS

Following this abrupt introduction to his interesting neighbour, Lanyardwent back to his deck-chair and, bundling himself up against the cold, settled down to ponder the affair and await developments in a spirit ofchastened resignation. That a dénouement would duly unfold he was quitesatisfied; that he himself must willy-nilly play some part therein he wastoo well persuaded. 

Not that he wished to meddle. If this Miss Cecelia Brooke (as she namedherself) fostered any sort of intrigue, he wanted nothing so ferventlyas to be left altogether out of it. But already he had been dragged in, without wish or consent of his; whoever coveted her secret--whatever thatwas, more precious to her than jewels--harboured designs upon his own aswell. It was his duty henceforth to go warily, overlooking no circumstance, however trifling and inconsiderable it might appear. The slenderest threadmay lead to the heart of the most intricate maze--and the heart of this wasbecome Lanyard's immediate goal, for there his enemy lay perdu. 

It was never this man's fault to underrate an enemy, least of allan unknown; and he entertained wholesome respect for Secret Serviceoperators--picked men, as a rule, the meanest no mean antagonist. And thisbusiness, he fancied, had all the flavour of Secret Service work--oneof those blind duels, desperate and grim affairs of masked combatantsfeinting, thrusting, guarding in the dark, each with the other's sword everfeeling for his throat, fighting for life itself and making his own rulesas the contest swayed. 

But what was this Brooke girl doing in that galley? What conceivable motiveinduced her to dabble those slender hands in the muck and blood of SecretService work?

Lanyard was fain to let that question rest. After all, it was no concern ofhis. There she was, up to her pretty eyebrows in some dark, bad business;and it was not for him to play the gratuitous ass, rush in unasked, andseek to extricate her.... 

Through endless hours he sat brooding, vision blindly focussed upon themisty, shimmering mystery of that night. 

Ekstrom!... Slowly in his understanding intuition shaped the convictionthat it was Ekstrom whom he was fighting now, Ekstrom in the guise of oneof his creatures, some agent of the Prussian spy system who had contrivedto smuggle himself aboard this British steamship. 

Out of those nine in the smoking room the previous night, then, he mustbeware of one primarily, perhaps of more. 

Four he was disposed, with reservations, to reckon negligible: Baron vonHarden, head of a Netherlands banking house, a silent body whose acutemental processes went on behind a pallid screen of flabby features; JuliusBecker, a theatrical manager of New York, whose right name ended in ski;Bartlett Putnam, late chargé d'affaires of the American embassy in Madrid;Edmund O'Reilly, naturalized citizen of the United States, interested inthe manufacture of motor tractors somewhere in Michigan. 

Of the other five, two were English: Lieutenant Thackeray, a civillyreticent gentleman whose right arm rested in a black silk sling, makinga flying trip to visit a married sister in New York; Archer Bartholomew, Esq. , solicitor, a red-cheeked, bright-eyed, white-haired, brisk littleCockney, beyond the military age. 

There remained Dressier, the stout, self-satisfied Swiss, whose fawningmanner was possibly accounted for by his statement that he journeyed toNew York to engage in the trade of restaurateur in partnership with hisbrother; Crane, long and awkward and homely, of saturnine cast, slow ofgesture and negligent as to dress, his humorous sense clouding a powerof shrewd intelligence; and Señor Arturo Velasco, of Buenos Aires, middle-aged, apparently extremely well-to-do, a thoughtful type, moreself-contained than most of his countrymen. 

One of these probably ... But which?... 

Nor must he permit himself to forget that the _Assyrian_ carried fifty-nineother male passengers, in addition to her complement of officers, crew, andstewards, that any one of these might prove to be Potsdam's cat's-paw. 

Awesome pallor tinged the eastern horizon, gaining strength, spread inimperceptible yet rapid gradations toward the zenith. Stars faded, winkedout, vanished. Silver and purple in the sea gave place to livid gray. Almost visibly the routed night rolled back over the western rim of theworld. Shafts of supernal radiance lanced the formless void between skyand sea. Swollen and angry, the sun lifted up its enormous, ensanguinedportent. And the discountenanced moon withdrew hastily into theimmeasurable fastnessness of a cloudless firmament, yet failed therein tofind complete concealment. Keen, sweet airs of dawn raked the decks, nowto port, now to starboard, as the _Assyrian_ twisted and writhed on hercorkscrew way. 

Passengers whose fears had become sufficiently numb to permit them todrowse, stirred in their chairs, roused blinking and blear-eyed, aroseand stretched cramped, cold bodies. Others lay listless, enervated by thesleepless misery of that night. Crane found Lanyard awake and marched himoff for coffee and cigarettes in the smoking room. 

Later, starting out for a turn around the decks, they passed a deck-chairsheltered in a jog where the engine-room ventilating shaft joined theforward deck-house, in which Miss Brooke lay cocooned in wraps and furs, her profile, turned aside from the sea, exquisitely etched against the richblackness of a fox stole. She slept as quietly as the most carefree, ashadowy smile touching her lips. 

Crane's stride faltered. He whistled low. 

"In the name of all things wonderful! how did that get on board?"

Lanyard mentioned the girl's name. "She has the stateroom next tomine--came off that tender, night before last. "

"And me sore on that darn' li'l boat because it brought aboard all thenosey Johnnies! Ain't it the truth, you never know your luck?"

The American ruminated in silence till another lap of their walk took thempast the girl again. 

"Funny, " he mused, "if that's why they held us up.... "

"Comment, monsieur?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if it was on that young lady's account they keptus kicking our heels back there so long. "

"I am still stupid, " Lanyard confessed. 

"Why, she might be a special messenger, you know--something like that--theBritish Government wanted to smuggle out of the country without anybodysuspecting. "

"Monsieur is a romantic. "

"You can't trust me, " Crane averred unblushingly. 

When they passed the chair again it was empty. 

At breakfast Lanyard saw the girl from a distance: their places wereseparated by the width of the saloon. She had no neighbours at her table, did not look up when Lanyard entered, finished her meal some time beforehe did, and retired immediately to her stateroom, in whose seclusion sheremained for the rest of the day. 

That second day was altogether innocent of untoward incident. At leastsuperficially the life of the ship settled into the groove of "businessas usual. " Only the company of the _Assyrian's_ faithful convoys was anever-present reminder of peril. 

And in the middle of the afternoon she passed close by a derelict, atorpedoed tramp, deep down by the stern, her bows helplessly high in airand crimson with rust, the melancholy haunt of a great multitude of gulls. 

More than slightly to Lanyard's surprise he received no quiet invitationto the captain's quarters to be interrogated concerning the burglary inStateroom 27. Apparently, the young woman had contented herself withreporting merely that the communicating door had carelessly been leftunfastened. 

For his own part, neither seeking nor avoiding individual members of thesmoking-room group, Lanyard permitted himself to be drawn into theircompany, and sat among them amiably receptive. But this profited himscantily; there was no further talk of the Lone Wolf; he was not againaware of that covert surveillance. 

But when--the evening chill driving him below to don a fur-linedtopcoat--the Brooke girl, coming up the companionway, acknowledged his lookof recognition with the most distant of nods, he accepted the apparentrebuff without resentment. He understood. She was playing the game. Theenemy was watching, listening. After that he was studious to refrain fromseeming either to avoid or to seek her neighbourhood; and if he did keep asharp eye on her, it was so circumspectly as to mock detection. To thebest of his observation she found no friends on board, contracted no newacquaintances, kept herself to herself within walls of inexorable reserve. 

Dawn, ending the second night at sea, found the _Assyrian_ pursuing acourse still devious, and now alone; the destroyers had turned back duringthe night. The western boundary of the barred zone lay astern. Ahead, atthe end of a brief interval of time, the ivory towers of New York loomed, a-shimmer with endless sunlight, glorious in golden promise. Accordingly, the spirits of the passengers were exalted. The very ship seemed to grin inself-complacence; she had won safely through. 

Unremitting vigilance was none the less maintained. No hour of thetwenty-four found either gun, forward or aft, wanting a full working crewon the keen qui vive. The life boats remained on outswung davits; boatdrills for passengers as well as crew were features of the daily programme. Regulations concerning light and smoking on deck after dark were rigidlyenforced. Fuel was never spared in the effort to widen the blue gulfbetween the steamship and those waters wherein she had so nearly met herend. By day a hunted thing, racing frantically toward a port of refuge inthe West, all her stout fabric labouring with titanic pulsations, shying inpanic from the faintest suspicion of smoke upon the horizon, the _Assyrian_slipped into the grateful obscurity of night like a snake into a thicket, made herself akin to its densest shadows, strained hopelessly not to beoutdistanced by its fugitive mantle. 

And the benison of unseasonably clement weather was hers; day after shiningday, night after placid night, the Atlantic revealed a singularly gracioushumour, mirrored the changeful panorama of the heavens in a surface littleflawed. So that the most squeamish voyagers, as well as those most besetwith fears, slept sweetly in the comfort of their berths. 

Lanyard, however, never went to bed without first securing his door so thatit might be opened by force alone; and never slept without a pistol beneathhis pillow. 

But the truth is, he slept little. For the first time in his history helearned what it meant to will sleep to come and have his will defied. Helay for hours staring wide-eyed into darkness, hearkening to the steadythrobbing of the engines, unable to dismiss the thought that their everyrevolution brought him so much nearer to America, so much the nearer tohis hour with Ekstrom. In vain he sought to fatigue his senses byover-indulgence in his weakness for gambling. Day-long sessions at pokerand auction in the smoking room--where he found formidable antagonists, principally in the persons of Crane, Bartlett Putnam, Velasco, Bartholomew, Julius Becker and Baron von Harden--served only to forward his financialfortunes; his luck was phenomenal; he multiplied many times that slenderstore of English banknotes with which he had embarked upon this adventure. But he left each exhausting sitting only to toss upon a wakeful pillow orto roam uneasily the dark and desolate decks, a man haunted by ghosts ofhis own raising, hagridden by passions of his own nurturing.... 

About two o'clock on the third night (the first outside the danger zone, when every other passenger might reasonably be expected to be in his berth)Lanyard lay in a deck-chair deep in shadows, wondering if it was worthwhileto go below and woo sleep in his stateroom. By way of experiment he shuthis eyes. When after a moment he opened them again he was no longer alone. 

Some distance away, at the rail, the woman of Stateroom 27 was standingwith her back to Lanyard, looking intently forward, unquestionably ignorantof his presence. 

Without moving, he watched in listless incuriosity till he saw herstraighten and stand away from the rail as if bracing herself against somecrisis. 

A man was coming aft from the entrance to the main companionway, impatiencein his stride--a tall man, of good carriage, muffled almost to the heels ina heavy ulster, a steamer-cap well forward over his eyes. But the light waspoor, the pale shine of the aged moon blending trickily with the swayingshadows; Lanyard was unable to place him among the passengers. There wasa suggestion of Lieutenant Thackeray--but that one was handicapped by oneshell-shattered arm, whereas this man had the use of both. 

He demonstrated that promptly, taking the girl into them. She yieldedherself gladly, with a hushed little cry, hiding her face in the bosom ofhis ulster, clinging to him. 

This, then, was an assignation prearranged! Miss Cecelia Brooke had a loveraboard the _Assyrian_, a lover whom she denied by day but met in stealth bynight!

And yet, after that first, swift embrace, their conduct became oddlyunloverlike. The man released her of his own initiative, held her by theshoulders at arm's length. There was irritation in his manner. He seemedtempted to shake the young woman. 

"Celia! what madness!"

So much, at least, Lanyard overheard; the rest was a mumble into the handwhich the girl placed over the man's lips. She cried breathlessly: "Hush!not so loud!"

And then she remembered to guard her own voice. In an undertone she spokepassionately for a moment. The man interrupted in a tone of profoundvexation. She drew away, as if hurt, caught him up as he hesitated for aword, returned, clung to the lapels of his coat, her accents rapid andpitiful, eloquent of explanation, entreaty, determination. The man liftedhis hands to her wrists, broke her grasp, cut her brusquely short, put herforcibly from him. She sobbed softly.... 

Thus swiftly the scene suffered disillusioning transition. The prettyfiction of lovers meeting in secret was no more. Remained a man annoyed tothe verge of anger, a woman desperately importunate. 

The wind, sweeping aft, carried broken snatches of their communications:

"... _all I have ... Could not let you go_.... "

"_Insanity_!"

"_I was desperate_.... "

"... _drive me mad with your nonsense_.... "

Lanyard sat up, scraping his chair harshly on the deck. Stricken mute, the pair at the rail moved only to turn his way the pallid ovals of theirfaces. 

Heedless of the prohibition, he struck a vesta, cupped its flame in hishands, bending his face close and deliberately lighting a cigarette. Appreciably longer than necessary he permitted the flare to reveal hisfeatures. Then he blew it out, rose, sauntered to the rail, cast thecigarette into the sea, went aft and so below, satisfied that the girl musthave recognised him and so knew that her secret was safe. 

But it was in an oddly disgruntled humour that he turned in--he who hadbeen so ready to twit Crane with his fantastic speculations concerningthe English girl, who had himself been the readiest to endue her with theromantic attributes becoming a heroine of her country's Secret Service!What if he must now esteem her in the merciless light of to-night'sexposure, as the most pitiable of all human spectacles, a poor lovesickthing sans dignity, sans pride, sans heed for the world's respect, a womanpursuing a man weary of her?

He resented unreasonably the unreasonable resentment which the affairinspired in him. 

What was it to him? He who had struck off all fettering bonds of commonhuman interests, who had renounced all common human emotions, who had sethis hand against all mankind that stood between him and that vengefulpurpose to which he had dedicated his life! He, the Lone Wolf, theheartless, soulless, pitiless beast of prey!

God in Heaven! what was any woman to him?

V

ON THE BANKS

Unaccountably enough in his esteem, and more and more to Lanyard'sexasperation, the evil flavour of that overnight incident lasted; ittinctured distastefully his first waking thoughts; and through all thatfourth day at sea his mood was dark with irrational depression. 

And the fifth day and the sixth were like unto the fourth. 

Constantly he caught himself on watch for the young woman, wondering howshe would comport herself toward him, unwilling witness though he had beento that shabby scene. 

But, save distantly at meal times, he saw nothing of her. 

And though he knew that she was much on deck after midnight, he wasstudious to keep out of her way. The tedium of stopping in a stuffystateroom, when the spell of restlessness was on him, waiting for thesounds of his neighbour's return before he might venture forth, wasnothing; anything were preferable to figuring as the innocent bystander atanother encounter between the Brooke girl and her reluctant lover.... 

Then that happened which lent the business another complexion altogether. Its second phase, of close development, drew toward an end. Subtleunderlying forces began to stir in their portentous latency. 

The rapiers which thus far had merely touched, shivering lightly againsteach other, measuring each its opponent's strength, feeling out his skill, fell apart, then re-engaged in sharp and deadly play. Steel met steel and, clashing, struck off sparks whose fugitive glimmerings lightened measurablythe murk.... 

On the sixth night out, at eleven o'clock as a matter of routine, thesmoking room was closed for the night, terminating an uncommonly protractedand, in Lanyard's esteem, irksome sitting at cards. Well tired, he wentimmediately to his quarters, undressed, stretched out in his berth, andswitched off the light. 

Incontinently he found himself bedevilled by thoughts that would not rest. 

For upward of an hour he lay moveless, seeking oblivion in that very effortto preserve immobility, while the _Assyrian_, lunging heavily on her way, moaned and muttered tedious accompaniment to the chant of the workingengines. 

Despairing at length, and fretted by the closeness of his quarters, he gotup, dressed sketchily, and was shrugging into his fur-lined coat when heheard the door to the adjoining stateroom open and close, stealth in thesound of it. 

At that he hung up his overcoat, and threw himself down with a book on thelounge seat beneath the port. The novel was dull enough in all conscience;for that matter no tale within the compass of the cunningest weaver ofwords could have enthralled his temper at that time. 

He read and read again page after page, but without intelligence. 

Between his eyes and the type-blackened paper mirages of the past trembledand wavered; old faces, old scenes, old illusions took unsubstantial form, dissolved, blended, faded away: a saddening show of shadows. 

His heavy eyelids drooped; slumber's drowsy vestments trailed lazilyathwart the sea of consciousness.... 

A slight noise startled him, either the shutting of the door to Stateroom27, or the sound of the book dropping from his relaxed grasp. He sat up andconsulted his watch. The hour was half after twelve. 

The ship's bell sounded remotely a single, doleful stroke. 

He might have dozed five minutes or fifteen--long enough at least to leaveits tantalising effect of sleep desperately desirable, mockingly elusive, almost grasped, whisked beyond grasping. And with this he was aware ofsomething even less tangible, a sense of something amiss, of somethingvaguely wrong, as of an evil spirit stalking furtively through the darkenedlabyrinth of the ship ... As impalpable and ineluctable as miasmicexhalations of a morass.... 

Lanyard passed a hand across his forehead. Had he been dreaming, then? Wasthis merely the reaction from some bitter nightmare? He could not remember. 

On sheer impulse he stood up, extinguished the light, opened the door. Ashe did this he noted that a light burned in Stateroom 27, visible throughthe ventilating grille. So the girl must have returned while he slept. Orhad she neglected to turn the switch when she went out? He could not becertain. 

On the threshold he paused a little, attentive to the familiar rumour ofthe ship by night: the prolonged sloughing of riven waters down the side, gnashing of swells hurled back by the bows, sibilance of draughts inalleyways, groaning of frames, a thin metallic rattle of indeterminateorigin, the crunching grind of the steering gear, the everlastingdeep-throated diapason of the engines, somewhere aft in that tier ofstaterooms a persistent human snore ... Nothing unusual, no alarmingdiscordance.... 

Yet the feeling that mischief was afoot would not be still. 

Lanyard moved down to the junction of the thwartship passage with thefore-and-aft alleyway. 

Here he commanded a view of the promenade-deck landing and the maincompanionway, all in darkness but for a feeble glimmer of reflectedstarlight through the open deck port on the far side of the vessel. Beyondthis the rail was stencilled against the dull face of the sea with its farlifting and falling horizon; within, no more was visible than the dimmedwhiteness of the forward partition, the dense, indefinite mass of balusterswinding up to the boat-deck, and the flat plane of the tiled landing. 

On this last, near the mouth of the port alleyway, half obscured by theintervening balusters, something moved, something huge, black, and formlessswayed and writhed strangely, and in the strangest silence, like a dumb, tormented misshapen brute transfixed to one spot from which its mostanguished efforts might not avail to budge it. 

Lanyard ran forward, rounded the well of the companionway, and pulled up. 

Now the nature of the thing was revealed. Blackly silhouetted against thesquare of the doorway two human figures were close-locked and strugglingdesperately, straining, resisting, thrusting, giving, recovering ... Andall with never a sound more than the deadened thump of a shifting foot orthe rasp of hard-won breathing. 

For several seconds the spectator could not distinguish one contestant fromthe other. Then a change in the fortunes of war enabled him to make outthat one was a woman, the other, and momentarily more successful, a man. Slender and youthful and strong, she fought with the indomitable fury ofa pantheress. He on his part had won this much temporary advantage--hadbroken the woman's clutch upon his throat and was bending her back overhis hip, one hand fumbling at her windpipe, the other imprisoning her twowrists. 

Yet she was far from being vanquished. Even as Lanyard moved toward thepair, she drove a savage knee into the man's middle and, as he checkedinstantaneously with a grunt of pained surprise, regained her footing andplanted both elbows against his chest, striving frantically to free herhands. 

Simultaneously Lanyard took the fellow from behind, wound an arm around hisneck, jerked his head sharply back, twisted his forearm till he releasedthe woman's wrists, and threw him with a force that must have jarred hisevery bone. 

The woman staggered back against the partition, panting and sobbing beneathher breath. The man rebounded from his fall with astonishing agility, andflew back at Lanyard. An object in his right hand gave off the dull gleamof polished steel. 

Lanyard, his automatic in his stateroom, in the pocket of the overcoatwhere he had deposited it when meaning to go out on deck, lacked any meansof defense other than his two hands; but his one-time fame as an amateurpugilist had been second only to his fame as a connaisseur d'art; and toone whose youth had been passed in association with the Apaches of Paris, some mastery of la savate was an inevitable accomplishment. 

A lightning coup de pied planted a heel against one of the man's shins, and his onslaught faltered in a gust of curses. Then the point of his jawreceived the full force of Lanyard's right fist with all the ill willimaginable behind it. The man reared back, reeled into the black mouth ofthe alleyway, fell heavily. 

Even so, he demonstrated extraordinary vitality and appetite forpunishment. He had no more gone down than the adventurer, peering into thegloom, saw him struggle up on his knees. Instantly Lanyard made towardhim, intent on finishing this work so well begun, but in his second stridetripped over a heavy body hidden in the shadows, and pitched headlong. Falling, he was conscious of a flashing thing that sped past his cheek, immediately above his shoulder. There followed an echoing thud against theforward partition. 

Picking himself up smartly, Lanyard crept several paces down the alleyway, flattening against the wall, straining his vision, listening intently, rewarded by neither sign nor sound of his antagonist. 

That one must have been swift to advantage himself of Lanyard's tumble. If he had not vanished into thin air, or gone to earth in some untenantedstateroom thereabouts, he found in the close blackness of that narrowpassage a cloak of positive invisibility to cover his escape. 

And there is little wisdom in stalking an armed man whom one cannot see, with what little light there is at one's own back. 

So Lanyard went back to the landing, stepping carefully over the obstaclewhich had both thrown him and saved his life--the supine body of a thirdman, motionless; whether dead or merely insensible, he did not stop toinvestigate. His immediate concern was for the woman. 

As he came upon her now, she stood en profile to the partition, tuggingstrongly at something embedded in the woodwork close by her side, betweenher waist and armpit. At the sound of his approach she looked up with atremor of apprehension quickly calmed. 

"Monsieur Duchemin! If you please--"

Lanyard, in no way surprised to recognise the voice of Miss Cecelia Brooke, stepped closer. "What is it?" he enquired; and then, bending over to look, found that her cloak was pinned to the partition by the blade of a heavyknife buried a full half of its considerable length. 

"He threw it as you fell, " the girl explained. "I was in the direct line. "

"Permit me, mademoiselle.... "

He laid hold of the haft of the weapon and with some difficulty withdrewit. 

"Who was it?" he asked, weighing the knife in his palm and examining it asclosely as he could without the aid of light. 

There was no reply. Directly her cloak was freed, the girl had movedhastily away to the body over which Lanyard had stumbled. He heard animploring whisper--"Please!"--and looked up to see her on her knees. 

"Who, then, is this?" he demanded, joining her. 

"Lionel--Lieutenant Thackeray. Please--O please!--tell me he is not dead. "

Her voice broke; he saw her slender body convulsed with racking emotions. Kneeling, Lanyard made a hasty and superficial examination, necessarily nomore under the conditions. 

"His heart beats, " he announced--"he breathes. I do not think him seriouslyinjured. " He made as if to get up. "I will get a light--a flash-lamp frommy stateroom--or, better still, the ship's surgeon--"

Her hand fell upon his arm. "Please, no! Not that--not now. Later, ifnecessary; but now--surely, you can help me carry him to his stateroom. "

"You know the number?"

"It's close by--30. "

"Find it, and light up. No--leave this to me; I can carry him withoutassistance. "

The girl rose and disappeared. Lanyard passed his arms beneath theEnglishman's body, gathered him into them, and struggled to his feet: noinconsiderable task. 

Light gushed from an open doorway, the third aft from the landing. Staggering, the adventurer entered and deposited the body upon the berth. Immediately the girl closed and bolted the door, then passed between himand the berth to bend over the unconscious man. He lay in deep coma, limbsa-sprawl, unpleasant glints of white between his half-closed eyelids, hisbreathing stertorous through parted lips. Free of its sling, his woundedarm dangled over the edge of the berth. In putting him down, Lanyard hadremarked that its sleeve had been slit to the shoulder, and that itsbandages were undone. Now, in amazement, he saw the arm was firm andmuscular, with an unbroken skin, never a sign of any injury in all itslength. 

Gently the girl lifted the lieutenant's head to the light, discovering ahideously bruised swelling at the base of the skull, blood darkly mattingthe close-clipped hair. 

She requested without looking round: "Water, please--and a towel. "

Obediently Lanyard ran hot and cold water into the hand-basin in equalproportions. 

"Would it not be well now to call the ship's surgeon?" he suggesteddiffidently. 

"Is that necessary? I am something of a nurse. This is simply a badcontusion--no worse, I believe. He was struck down from behind, a cowardlyblow in the dark, as he started to go up on deck. I had been waiting forhim. When he didn't come I suspected something was wrong. I came down, found him lying there, that brute kneeling over him. "

She spoke coolly enough, in contrast with the high excitement that inflamedher eyes as she turned away from the berth. 

"Monsieur Duchemin, are you armed?"

"I have this, " he said, exhibiting the knife thrown by the would-bemurderer--a simple trench dagger, without distinguishing marks of any sort. 

"Then take this, please. " Extracting an automatic pistol from a holsterbelted beneath Thackeray's coat, she proffered it. "You won't mind stayinghere a moment, standing guard, while I fetch a dressing from my room?"

Before he could utter a word of protest she had slipped out into thealleyway, shutting the door behind her. 

When several minutes had passed the adventurer found himself beset byincreasing concern. This long delay seemed not only inconsistent with hersolicitude, but indicated a possibility that the girl had braved unwiselythe chance of a resumption of hostilities on the part of her late and asyet anonymous assailant. 

Darkening the room as a matter of common-sense precaution, Lanyard, pistolin hand, stepped out into the alleyway in time to see the girl in the actof rising from her knees on the landing, near the spot where Thackeray hadfallen. The light of her flash-lamp was blotted out as she came hurriedlyaft. 

Perplexed, he turned back and switched on the light as she entered. 

Her eyes challenged his almost defiantly. 

"Was I long?" she asked, breathless. "I dropped something.... "

Lanyard bowed without speaking. Instinctively he knew that she was lying;and divining this in his attitude, she coloured and, disconcerted, turnedaway. For a moment, while she busied herself arranging on a convenientchair an assortment of first-aid accessories, he fancied that herhalf-averted face wore a look of sullen chagrin, with its compressed lips, downcast eyes, and faintly gathered brows. 

But directly she needed assistance, and requested it of him in a subduedand impersonal manner, showing a countenance devoid of any incongruousemotion. 

Lanyard, lifting the lieutenant's head and heavy torso, helped turn himface downward on the berth, then stood aside, thoughtfully watching thegirl's deft fingers sop absorbent cotton in an antiseptic wash and apply itto the injury. 

After a little, he said: "If mademoiselle has no more immediate use forme--"

"Thank you, monsieur. You have already done so very much!"

"Then, if mademoiselle will supply the name of this assassin--"

"I know it no more than you, monsieur!" She glanced up at him, startled. "What do you mean to do?"

"Why, naturally, lodge an information with the captain concerning thisoutrage--"

"Oh, please, no!"

At a loss, Lanyard shrugged eloquently. 

"Not yet, at all events, " she hastened to amend. "Let Lionel judge what isbest to be done when he comes to. "

"But, mademoiselle, who can say when that will be?" He pointed out theugly, ragged abrasion in the young Englishman's scalp exposed by thecleansing away of the clotted blood. "No ordinary blow, " he commented;"something very like a slung-shot or a loaded cane did that work. If I mayventure again to advise--unless mademoiselle is herself a surgeon--"

Her colour faded and she caught her breath sharply. "You think it asserious as all that?"

"I do not know. Such a blow might easily fracture the skull, possibly bringabout a concussion of the brain. Regard, likewise, his laborious breathing. I most assuredly advise consulting competent authority. "

She did not immediately answer, turning back undivided attention to hertask; but he noticed that her hands were tremulous, however, dextrouslythey finished dressing and bandaging the hurt; and deep distress troubledthe handsome eyes she turned to his when she rose. 

"You are right, " she murmured--"unquestionably right, monsieur. We musthave the surgeon in.... "

But when Lanyard advanced a hand toward the bell-push, to call the steward, she interposed in quick alarm:

"No--if you please, a moment; I must have time to think!" Her slenderfingers writhed together in her agony of doubt and irresolution. "If only Iknew what to do.... "

Lanyard was dumb. There was, indeed, nothing helpful he could offer, whowas without a solitary tangible or trustworthy clue to the nature of thisstrange business. 

He owned himself sadly mystified. In the light--or, rather, the shadow--ofthis latest development, his revised suspicions seemed unwarranted to thepoint of impertinence; unless, of course, one assumed the unknown assailantto be a rejected lover or wronged husband. And somehow one did not, inthe presence of this clear-eyed, straight-limbed, courageous youngEnglishwoman, so wanting in self-consciousness. 

And yet ... What the deuce was she to this man whom, indisputably, shefollowed against his wish?

And what conceivable chain of circumstances linked their fortunes with his, and that double burglary of the first night out with this murderous assaultof to-night?

Nor was to-night's work, considered by itself, lacking in questionablefeatures. 

Why had Thackeray carried that sound arm in a sling? How had its bandagescome to be unwrapped? Not in struggles before being placed hors de combat, for he had never had a chance to resist. Had his assailant, then, unwrappedit subsequently? If so, with what end in view?

Why had this Miss Cecelia Brooke, surprising the thug at his work, joinedbattle with him so bravely and so madly without calling for help?

What hidden motive excused this singular hesitation to summon the surgeon, this reluctance to inform the officers of the ship?

What duplicity was that which the girl had paraded concerning herprocrastination when Lanyard had surprised her on her knees out there onthe landing?

If this were what Lanyard had first inclined to think it, Secret Serviceintrigue, surely it was weirdly intricate when an English girl hesitatedto safeguard an Englishman by taking into her confidence the officers of aBritish ship, British manned!

Nevertheless, and however much he might wonder and doubt, Lanyard wouldnever question her. Never of his own volition would he probe more deeplyinto this mystery, take one farther step into the intricacies of its maze. 

So, in silence, he waited, passively courteous, at her further service ifshe had need of him, content if she had not, tolerant of her tacit prayerfor time in which to think a way out of her difficulties. 

After some few moments he grew uncomfortably aware that he had become theobject of a speculative regard not at all unfavourable. 

He indulged in a mental gesture of resignation. 

Then what he had feared befell, not altogether as he had apprehended, butin the girl's own fashion, if without material difference in the upshot. 

"I am afraid, " said she in an even voice, so quietly pitched as to beinaudible to any eavesdropper. "This becomes a task greater than I haddreamed, more than my wits can cope with. Monsieur Duchemin.... "

She hesitated. He bowed slightly. "If mademoiselle can make any use of mypoor abilities, she has but to command me. "

"We--I have much to thank you for already, monsieur, much more than I canever hope to reward adequately--"

"Reward?" he echoed. "But, mademoiselle--!"

"Please don't misunderstand. " She flushed a little, very prettily. "I amsimply trying to express my sense of obligation, not only for what you havealready done, but for what I mean to ask you to do. "

Again he bowed, without comment, amiably receptive. 

She resumed with perceptible effort: "I can trust you--"

"You must make sure of that before you do, " he warned her, smiling. 

"I am sure, " she averred gravely. 

"You know nothing concerning me, mademoiselle--pardon! For all you knowI may be the greatest rogue in Christendom. And I must tell you in allcandour, sometimes I think I am. "

"What I may or may not know concerning you, Monsieur Duchemin, isimmaterial as long as I know you are what you have proved yourself to me, agentleman, considerate, generous, brave, and--not inquisitive. "

He was frankly touched. If this were flattery, tone and manner robbed it offulsomeness, rendered it subtle beyond the coarser perceptions of the man. He knew himself for what he was, knew himself unworthy; and that partof him which was unaffectedly French, whether by accident of birth orinfluence of environment, and so impulsive and emotional, reacted inspontaneous gratitude to this implicit acceptance of him for what he stroveto seem to be. 

"Mademoiselle is gracious beyond my deserts, " he protested. "Only let meknow how I may be of use.... "

"In three ways: Continue to be lenient in your judgments, and ask me nomore questions than you must because ... I may not answer.... " Her handsworked together again. She added unhappily, in a faint voice: "I dare not. "

That, too, moved him, since he had been far from lenient in his judgments. He responded the more readily: "All that is understood, mademoiselle. "

"Please go at once back to your stateroom, and as quietly as possible. There is a bare chance you were not recognised, that nobody knows who cameto my aid to-night. If you can slip away without attracting attention, somuch the better for us, for all of us. You may not be suspected. "

"Trust me to use my best discretion. "

"Lastly ... Take and keep this for me, till I ask you for it again. Hide itas secretly as you can. It may be sought for, is certain to be if you arebelieved to be in my confidence. It must not be found. And I may not wantit again before we land in New York. "

She extended a hand on whose palm rested a small and slender whitecylinder, no longer and little thicker than the toy pencil that danglesfrom a dance-card: a tight roll of plain white paper enclosed in a wrappingof transparent oiled silk, gummed fast down its length and, at either end, sealed with miniature blobs of black wax. 

"Will you do this for me, Monsieur Duchemin? I warn you, it may cost youyour life. "

He took it, his temper veering to the whimsical. "What is life?" hequestioned. "A prelude--perhaps an overture to that great drama, Death. Whoknows? Who cares?"

She heard him in a stare. "You place no value on life?"

"Mademoiselle, " he said, "I have lived nearly thirty years in this world, three years in the theatre of war, seldom far from the trenches of onefront or another. I tell you, I know death too well.... "

He shrugged and put the roll of paper away in a pocket. 

"You understand it must not be taken from you under any circumstance? As alast resort, it must be destroyed rather than yielded up. "

"It shall be, " he said quietly. "Is there anything more?"

She shook her head, thoughtfully knuckling her underlip. 

"How can I communicate with you in event of necessity after we get to NewYork?" she asked. 

"I shall stop for a week or two at the Hotel Knickerbocker. "

"If anything should happen"--with a swift glance of anxiety toward themotionless figure in the berth--"if anything should prevent my calling forit within a week after our arrival, you will be good enough to deliver itto--" She caught herself up quickly, the unuttered words trembling on herlip. "I will write down the address of the person to whom you will deliverit, and slip it underneath the door between our rooms--first makingcertain you are there to receive it--if I do not ask you to returnthe--thing--before we land. "

"That shall be as you will. "

"When you have memorized the address you will destroy it?"

"Depend on that. "

"I think that is all. Thank you, Monsieur Duchemin--and good-night. "

She extended her hand. He saluted it punctiliously with fingertips andlips. 

"If you will put out the light, mademoiselle, it may aid me to get awayunseen. "

She nodded and offered him Thackeray's pistol. "Take this. O, I haveanother with me. "

Lanyard accepted the weapon and, when she had darkened the room, opened thedoor, slipped out, and closed it behind him so noiselessly that the girlcould not believe he was gone. 

Nothing hindered his return to Stateroom 29. 

Fully two minutes after he had locked himself in he heard the distantclamour of the annunciator, calling a steward to Stateroom 30. 

VI

UNDER SUSPICION

He sat for a long time on the edge of his berth, elbow on knee, chin inhand, unstirring, gaze fixed upon that little cylinder of white paperresting in the hollow of his palm, in profoundest concentration ponderingthe problems it presented: what it was, what possession of it meant toMichael Lanyard, what safe disposition to make of it pending welcome relieffrom this unsought and most unwelcome trust. 

This last question alone bade fair to confound his utmost ingenuity. 

As for what it was, Lanyard was well satisfied that he now held the truefocus of this conspiracy, a secret of the first consequence, far toomomentous to the designs of England to be entrusted, though couched in themost cryptic cipher ever mind of man devised, even to cables or mails whichEngland herself controlled. 

Solely to prevent this communication from reaching America, Lanyardbelieved, Germany had sown mines broadcast in all the waters which the_Assyrian_ must cross, and had commissioned her U-boats, without fail andat whatever cost, to sink the vessel if by any accident she won safelythrough the mine-fields. 

In the effort to steal this secret, German spies had sailed on the_Assyrian_ knowing well the double risk they ran, of being shot like ratsif found out, of being drowned like neutrals if the ship went down throughthe efforts of their compatriots. 

It was the zeal of Potsdam's agents, seeking the bearer of this secret, which had caused the rifling of Miss Brooke's luggage when she fell undersuspicion, thanks to her clandestine way of coming aboard; and through thesame agency young Thackeray had been all but murdered when suspicion, forwhatever reason, shifted to him. 

To insure safe transmission of this communication, England had held the_Assyrian_ idle in port, day after day, while her augmented patrols scouredthe seas, hunting down ruthlessly every submarine whose periscope daredpeer above the surface, and while her trawlers innumerable swept thechannels clear of mines. 

To prevent its theft, Lieutenant Thackeray had invented the subterfuge ofthe "wounded" arm, amid whose splints and bandages (Lanyard never doubted)the cylinder had been secreted. 

Finally, it was as a special agent, deep in her country's confidence, thatthis English girl had smuggled herself aboard at the last moment, bringing, no doubt, this very cylinder to be transferred to the keeping of LieutenantThackeray or, perhaps, another confrère, should she find reason to thinkherself suspected, her trust endangered. 

Nothing strange in that; women had served their countries in suchcapacities before; the secret archives of European chancellories arereplete with their records. Lanyard himself remembered many such women, brilliant mondaines from many lands domiciled in that Paris of the so-deadyesterday to serve by stealth their respective governments; but never, itwas true, a woman of the caste of Cecelia Brooke; unless, indeed, this werean actress of surpassing talent, gifted to hoodwink the most skeptical andleast susceptible of men. 

And yet.... 

Lanyard's train of thought faltered. New doubt of the girl began to shadowhis meditations. Contradictory circumstances he had noted intruded, uninvited, to challenge overcredulous conclusions concerning her. 

Would any secret agent worth her salt invite suspicion by making such aconspicuously furtive embarkation, by such ostentatious avoidance of herfellow passengers, by surrounding herself with an atmosphere of suchpalpable mystery? Would such an one confess she had a "secret" to an utterstranger, as she had to Lanyard that first night out? Would she, under anyconceivable circumstances, entrust to that same stranger that selfsamesecret upon whose inviolate preservation so much depended?

And would she make love-trysts on the decks by night?

Would a brother-agent take her in his arms, then reprove her with everysymptom of vexation for her "madness, " her "insanity, " her "nonsense" thatwas like to "drive me mad"?--Thackeray's own words!

Vainly Lanyard cudgelled his wits for some plausible reading of thisriddle. 

Was this Brooke girl possibly (of a sudden he sat bolt upright) a Prussianagent infatuated with this young Englishman and by him beloved in spite ofall that forbade their passion?

Did not this explanation reconcile every apparent inconsistency in herconduct, even to the entrusting to a stranger of the stolen secret, thepurloined paper she dared not keep about her lest it be found in herpossession?

Lanyard's eyes narrowed. Visibly his features hardened. If this surmise ofhis were any way justified in the outcome, he promised Miss Cecelia Brookean hour of most painful penitence. 

Woman or not, she need not look for mercy from him, who must ever bemerciless in his dealings with Ekstrom's crew. 

To be made that one's tool!

The very thought was intolerable.... 

As for himself, possession of this paper meant that pitfalls were diggedfor his every step. 

If ever the British found cause to suspect him, his certain portion wouldbe to face a firing squad in dusk of early day. 

If, on the other hand, these Prussian agents on board the _Assyrian_ evergot wind of the fact that the cylinder was in his care, his fate was apt tobe a knife between his ribs the first time he was caught alone and--withhis back to the assassin. 

Two courses, then, were open to him: the most sensible and obvious, to gostraightway to the captain of the _Assyrian_, report all that he knew orsurmised, and turn over the paper for safekeeping; one alternative, to hidethe cylinder so absolutely that the most drastic search would overlook it, yet so handily that he could rid himself of it at an instant's notice. 

But the first course involved denunciation of the Brooke girl. And whatif she were innocent? What if, after all, these doubts of her were thespecious spawn of facts misinterpreted, misconstrued? What if she proved tobe all she seemed? Could he, even though what he had warned her he mightbe, the greatest rogue unhung, be false to a trust reposed in him by such awoman?

As to that, there was no question in his mind; he would never betray her, lacking irrefutable conviction that she was an employee of the Prussian spysystem. 

Then how to hide the paper?

Kneeling, Lanyard drew from beneath the berth his bellows-bag, selectedfrom its contents a black japanned tin case containing a rather elaboratethough compact trench medicine kit, the idle purchase of an empty afternoonin London. Extracting from its fittings a small leather-covered case, hereplaced the kit, relocked and shoved the bag back beneath the berth. 

Then, standing over the hand-basin, he opened the leather-covered case. Itsvelvet-lined compartments held a hypodermic syringe and needle, and a glassphial of twenty-four one-thirtieth grain morphia tablets. 

Uncorking the phial, he shook out all the tablets, replaced three, thenslid the paper cylinder into the tube; it fitted precisely, concealed bythe label of the manufacturing chemist, leaving room for six more tablets. Lanyard inserted four on top of the cylinder, moistening the lowermostslightly to make it stick, recorked the phial, and returned it to itscompartment. 

Next he dissolved three morphia tablets in a little water in the bottom ofa glass, filled the syringe with the strong solution, fitted on the needle, squirted most of the contents down the waste-pipe, and consigned theremaining tablets to the same innocuous fate. 

Finally he replaced needle and syringe in the case, let the glass which hadheld the solution stand without rinsing, and put the open case upon theshelf above the basin. 

A light tapping sounded on the panels of his door. 

"Well? Who's there?"

"Your steward, sir. Captain Osborne's compliments, an' 'e'd like to see youin 'is room as soon as convenient, sir. "

"You may say I will come at once. "

"'Nk you, sir. "

A summons to have been expected as a sequel to the surgeon's report afterattending Lieutenant Thackeray; none the less, Lanyard had not expected itso soon. 

Authority, he reflected, ran true to form afloat as well as ashore; it wasprompt enough when required to apply a pound or so of cure. Surely theofficers, at least the captain, must have been advised why this voyagewas apt to prove exceptionally hazardous; and surely in the light of suchinformation it had been wiser to set armed watches on every deck by night, rather than permit the lives of passengers to be imperilled through thepossible activities of Prussian agents among them incogniti. 

And now that he was reminded of it, was not this, perhaps, but a device ofthe enemy's to decoy him from the comparative safety of his stateroom?

It was with a hand in his jacket pocket, grasping Thackeray's automatic, that he presently left the room. The alleyway, however, was deserted exceptfor his steward; who, as he appeared, turned and led the way up to theboat-deck. 

Rounding the foot of the companionway, Lanyard contrived a hasty glancedown the port alleyway. The door to Stateroom 30 was on the hook; a lightburned within. Outside a guard was stationed, a sailor with a cutlass: thefirst application of the pound of cure!

At the heels of his guide, he approached a door in the deck-house, devotedto officers' accommodations, beneath the bridge. Here the steward knockeddiscreetly. A heavy voice grumbling within was stilled for a moment, thenbarked a sharp invitation to enter. The steward turned the knob, announceddispassionately "Monseer Duchemin, " and stood aside. Lanyard entered awell-lighted room, simply but comfortably furnished as the captain's officeand sitting room; sleeping quarters adjoined, the head of a berth with abattered pillow showing through a door a foot or so ajar. 

Four persons were present; the notion entered Lanyard's head that a fifthpossibly lurked in the room beyond, spying, eavesdropping: not a bad schemeif Thackeray had an associate on board whose identity it was desirable tokeep under cover. 

The door closed gently behind him as he stood politely bowing, consciousthat the four faces turned his way were distinguished by a singular varietyof expression. 

Miss Cecelia Brooke was nearest him, beside a chair from which she hadevidently just risen, her pretty young face rather pale and set, a scaredlook in her candid eyes. 

Beyond her, the captain sat with his back to a desk: a broad-beamed, vigorous body, intensely masculine, choleric by habit, and just now in anextraordinarily grim temper, his iron-gray hair bristling from hispillow, and his stout person visibly suffering the discomfort of wearingnight-clothes beneath his uniform coat and trousers. Bending upon Lanyardthe steel-hard regard of small, steel-blue eyes, he drummed the arms of hischair with thick and stubby fingers. 

To one side, standing, was the third officer, a Mr. Sherry, a youngish manwith a pleasant cast of countenance which temporarily wore a look, rarelyBritish, of ingrained sense of duty at odds with much embarrassment. 

Lastly Mr. Crane's lanky person was draped, with its customary effect ofcarelessness, on one end of the lounge seat. He looked up, nodded shortlybut cheerfully to Lanyard, then resumed a somewhat quizzical contemplationof the half-smoked cigar which etiquette obliged him to neglect in thepresence of a lady. 

"This is the gentleman?" Captain Osborne queried heavily of the girl. Receiving a murmured affirmative, he continued: "Good morning, MonsieurDuchemin.... Thanks, Miss Brooke; we won't keep you up any longerto-night. "

He rose, bowed stiffly as Mr. Sherry opened the door for the girl, and whenshe was gone threw himself back into his chair with a force which made itenter a violent protest. 

"Sit down, sir. Daresay you know what we want of you. "

"It is not difficult to guess, " Lanyard admitted. "A sad business, monsieur. "

"Sad!" the captain iterated in a tone of harsh sarcasm. "That's a mild nameto give murder. "

Even had it not been blurted violently at him, that word was staggering. The adventurer echoed it blankly. "You can't mean Lieutenant Thackeray--?"

"Not yet, though doctor says it may come to that; the poor chap's in a badway--concussion. "

"So one feared. But monsieur said 'murder'.... "

Captain Osborne sat forward, steely gaze mercilessly boring into Lanyard'seyes. "Monsieur Duchemin, " he said slowly, "Lieutenant Thackeray was notthe only passenger to suffer through to-night's villainy. The other diedinstantly. "

"In God's name, monsieur--who?"

"Bartholomew. "

"Mr. Bartholomew!" A memory of that brisk little body's ruddy, cheerful, British personality flashed athwart the screen of memory. Lanyard murmured:"Incredible!"

"Murdered, " the captain proceeded, "in Stateroom 28. Lieutenant Thackerayand he were friends, shared the suite. Apparently Mr. Bartholomew heardsome unusual noise in 30 and left his berth to investigate. He was struckdown from behind as he approached the communicating door. The murderer hadgot in by way of the sitting room, 26. "

Mr. Sherry added in an awed voice: "Frightful blow--skull crushed like aneggshell. "

There was a pause. Crane thoughtfully relighted his cigar, and wrapped hisright cheek round it. The captain glared glassily at Lanyard. Mr. Sherrylooked, if possible, more uncomfortable than ever. Lanyard pondered, aghast. 

Ekstrom's work, of a certainty! This was his way, the way he imposed uponhis creatures. Ekstrom, ever a killer, obsessed by the fallacious notionthat dead men tell no tales.... 

And Bartholomew had been in this mess with Thackeray, both of themoperatives of the British Secret Service!

"Miss Brooke has given her version of the attack on Lieutenant Thackeray, "the captain pursued. "Be good enough to let us have yours. "

Succinctly Lanyard recounted the happenings between the moment whenpremonition of evil drew him from his stateroom and the moment when hereturned thereto. 

He was at pains, however, to omit all mention of the cylinder of paper;that, pending definite knowledge to the contrary, was a sacred trust, amatter of his honour, solely the affair of the Brooke girl. 

The captain squared himself toward Lanyard, his face louring, his jawpugnacious. 

"How did you happen to be up and dressed at that late hour, so ready torespond to this--ah--premonition of yours?"

"I sleep not well, monsieur. It was my intention to go on deck andendeavour to walk off my insomnia. "

Captain Osborne commented with a snort. 

"Why did you leave Miss Brooke alone before she called the doctor?"

"At mademoiselle's request, naturally. "

"You'd been deuced gallant up to that time. I presume it didn't occur toyou that the young woman might need further protection?"

Lanyard shrugged. "It did not occur to me to refuse her request, monsieur. "

"Didn't it strike you as odd she should wish to be left alone withLieutenant Thackeray?"

"It was not my affair, monsieur. It was her wish. "

"Excuse me, cap'n. " Crane sat up. "I'd like to ask Mr. Lanyard a question. "

But Lanyard had prepared himself against that, and acknowledged the touchwith a quiet smile and the hint of a bow. 

"Monsieur Crane.... "

"U. S. Secret Service, " Crane informed him with a grin. "Velasco spottedyou--had seen you years ago in Paruss--tipped me off. "

"So one inferred. And these gentlemen?" Lanyard indicated the captain andthird officer. 

"I wised them up--had to, when this happened. "

"Naturally, monsieur. Proceed.... "

"I only wanted to ask if you noticed anything to make you think perhapsthere was an understanding between Miss Brooke and the lieutenant?"

"Why should I?"

"I ain't curious why you should. What I want to know is, did you?"

"No, monsieur, " Lanyard lied blandly. 

"The little lady didn't seem to take on more'n she naturally would if thelieutenant'd been a stranger, eh?" "How to judge, when one has never seenmademoiselle distressed on behalf of another?"

Crane abandoned his effort, resuming contemplation of his cigar. 

"Now we come to the point. Monsieur Lanyard, or whatever your name is. "

"I have found Duchemin very agreeable, monsieur le capitaine. "

"I daresay, " Captain Osborne sneered. He hesitated, glowering in thedifficulty of thinking. "See here, Monsieur Duchemin--since you prefer thatstyle--I'm not going to beat about the bush with you. I'm a plain man, plain-spoken. They tell me you reformed. I don't know anything about that. It's my conviction, once a thief, always a thief. I may be wrong. "

"Right or wrong, monsieur might easily be less offensive. "

The captain's dark countenance became still more darkly congested. Implacable prejudice glinted in his small eyes. Nor was his temper softenedby the effrontery of this offender in giving back look for look with a calmpoise that overshadowed his arrogance of an honest, law-abiding man. 

He made a vague gesture of impatience. 

"The point is, " he said, "this crime was accompanied by robbery. "

"Am I to understand I am accused?"

"Nobody is accused, " Crane cut in hastily. 

"You have found no clues--?"

"Nary clue. "

"What I want to say to you, Monsieur Duchemin, is this: the stolen propertyhas got to be recovered before this ship makes her dock in New York. It means the loss of my command if it isn't. It means more than that, according to my information; it means a disastrous calamity to the Alliedcause. And you're a Frenchman, Monsieur--Duchemin. "

"And a thief. Monsieur le capitaine must not forget his pet conviction. "

"As to that, a man can't always be particular about the tools he employs. Ibelieve the old saying, set a thief to catch a thief, holds good. "

"Do I understand, " Lanyard suggested sweetly, "you are about to honour meby utilizing my reputed talents, by commissioning a thief to catch thisthief of to-night?"

"Precisely. You know more of this matter than any of us here. You were athand-grips with the murderer--and let him get away. "

"To my deep regret. But I have told you how that happened. "

"Seems a bit strange you made no real effort to find out what the scoundrellooked like. "

"It was dark in that alleyway, monsieur. "

The captain made an inarticulate noise, apparently meant to convey aneffect of ironic incredulity. More intelligible comment was interrupted bya ring of the telephone. He swung around, clapped receiver to ear, snappedan impatient "Well?" and listened with evident exasperation. 

Lanyard's eyes narrowed. This business of telephoning was conceivablywell-timed; not improbably the captain was receiving the report of somebodywho had been sent to search Stateroom 29 in Lanyard's absence. He wonderedand, wondering, glanced at Crane, to find that gentleman watching him witha whimsical glimmer which he was quick to extinguish when the captain saidcurtly, "Very good, Mr. Warde, " and turned back from the telephone, hismanner more than ever truculent. 

"Mr. Lanyard, " he said--"Monsieur Duchemin, that is--a valuable paper hasbeen stolen, an exceedingly valuable document. I don't know which carriedit, Lieutenant Thackeray or Mr. Bartholomew. But I do know such a paper wasin their possession. And to the best of my knowledge, we three were theonly ones on board that did know it. And it has disappeared. Now, sir, youmay or may not be deeper in this affair than you have admitted. If you are, I'd advise you to own up. "

"Monsieur le capitaine implies my complicity in this dastardly crime!"

Osborne shook his head doggedly. "I imply nothing. I only say this: if youknow anything you haven't told us, my advice is to make a clean breast ofit. "

"I have nothing to tell you, monsieur, beyond the fact that I find you, your tone, your manner, and your choice of words, intolerably insolent. "

"Then you know nothing--?"

"Monsieur!" Lanyard cried sharply. 

"Very good, " the captain persisted. "I'll take your word for it--and giveyou till we take on our pilot to find the real criminal and make him giveup that paper. "

"And if I fail?"

"Not a soul on board leaves the _Assyrian_ till the murderer and thief arefound--if they are not one. "

"But that is a general threat; whereas monsieur has honoured me bymaking this a personal matter. What punishment have you prepared forme specifically, if I fail to accomplish this task which bafflesyour--shrewdness?"

"I'll at least inform the port authorities in New York, tell them who youare, and have you barred out of the country. "

"I want to say, Lanyard, " Crane interposed, "this isn't my notion of how todeal with you, or in any way by my advice. "

"Thank you, monsieur, " the adventurer replied icily, without removing hisattention from the captain. "What else, Captain Osborne?"

"That is all I have to say to you to-night, sir. Good-night. "

"But I have something more to say to you, monsieur le capitaine. First, Idesire to give over to you this article which it will doubtless please youto consider stolen property. " Lanyard placed the automatic pistol on thedesk. "One of Lieutenant Thackeray's, " he explained; "at Miss Brooke'ssuggestion, I borrowed it as a life-preserver, in event of another brushwith this homicidal maniac. "

"She told us about that, " Osborne said heavily, fumbling with the weapon. "What else, sir?"

"Only this, monsieur le capitaine: I shall use my best endeavour to uncoverthe author of these crimes. If I succeed, be sure I shall denounce him. IfI succeed only in securing this valuable paper you speak of, be equallysure you will never see it; for it shall leave my hands only to pass intothose which I consider entirely trustworthy. "

"The devil!" Captain Osborne leaped from his chair quaking with fury. "Youdare accuse me of disloyalty--!"

"Now you mention it.... " Lanyard cocked his head to one side with amaddening effect of deliberation. "No, " he concluded--"no; I wouldn'taccuse you of intentional treason, monsieur; for that would involve animputation of intelligence.... "

He opened the door and nodded pleasantly to Crane and the third officer. 

"Good-night, gentlemen, " he said silkily. "Oh, and you, too, CaptainOsborne--good-night, I'm sure. "

VII

IN STATEROOM 29

In spite of his own anger, something far from being either assumed orinconsiderable, Lanyard was fain to pause, a few paces from the deck-house, and laugh quietly at a vast and incoherent booming which was resounding inthe room he had just quitted--Captain Osborne trying to do justice tothe emotions inspired in his virtuous bosom by the cheek of this damnedgaol-bird. 

But suddenly, reminded of the grim reason for all this wretched brawling, Lanyard shrugged off his amusement. Beneath his very feet, almost a manlay dead, another perhaps dying, while the beast who had wrought thatdevilishness remained at large. 

He comprehended in a wondering regard that wide, star-blazoned arch ofskies, that broad, dark, restful mystery of waters, that still, sweet worldof peace through which the _Assyrian_ forged, muttering contentedly at hertoil ... While Murder with foul hands and slavering chops skulked somewherein the darkened fabric of her, somewhere beyond that black mouth of thedeck-port yawning at Lanyard's elbow. 

From that same portal a man came abruptly but quietly, saw Lanyard standingthere, gave him a staring look and grudging nod, and strode forward to thecaptain's quarters: Mr. Warde, the first officer. 

Lanyard recollected himself, and went below. 

Still the sailor guarded the door in that port alleyway; but now it stoodwide, and Cecelia Brooke was on its threshold, conversing guardedly withthe surgeon. Even as Lanyard caught sight of them, the latter bowed andturned aft, while the girl retreated and refastened the door on its hook. 

Thus reminded of Crane's shrewd questions, Lanyard was speculating ratherfoggily concerning the reason therefor as he turned down the passage tohis own quarters. What had the American noticed, or been told, to make himsurmise covert sympathy between the girl and the lieutenant?

He caught himself yawning. Drowsiness buzzed in his brain. He had anincoherent feeling that he would now sleep long and heavily. Entering hisstateroom, he put a shoulder against the door, pushing it to as he fumbledfor the switch. The circumstance that the lights were no longer burning ashe had left them failed to impress him as noteworthy in view of his beliefthat, by the captain's orders, Mr. Warde had been ransacking his effects inhis absence. 

But when no more than a click responded to a turn of the switch, the roomremaining quite dark, Lanyard uttered an imprecation, abruptly very wideawake indeed. 

Before he could move he stiffened to positive immobility: the cool, hardnose of a pistol had come into contact with his skull, just behind the ear. 

Simultaneously a softly-modulated voice advised him in purest German: "Bequite still, Herr Lanyard, and hold up your hands--so! Also, see that youutter no sound till I give you leave.... Karl, the handkerchief. "

Lanyard stood motionless, hands well elevated, while a heavy silk blindfoldwas whipped over his eyes and knotted tight at the back of his head. 

"Now your paws, Herr Lone Wolf--put them together behind your back, prudently making no attempt to reach a pocket. "

Obediently Lanyard permitted his wrists to be caught together with a secondsilk handkerchief. He could feel a slight sensation of heat upon his hands, and guessed that this was caused by the light of a flash-lamp held closeto the flesh. None the less he took the chance of clenching his fists andtensing the muscles of his wrists. 

"Tightly, Karl. "

The bonds were made painfully fast. Still it did not seem to occur to hiscaptors to oblige their prisoner to open his hands and relax his wrists. Lanyard perceived a glimmer of hope in this oversight: the enemy wasnormally stupid. 

"Now the lights again. "

After a little wait, during which he could hear the bulbs being pressedback into their sockets, the switch clicked once more. 

"And now, swine-dog!"--the pistol tapped his skull significantly--"if youvalue your life, speak, and speak quickly. Where is that document?"

"Document?" Lanyard repeated in a tone of wonder. 

"Unless you are eager to explore the hereafter, tell us where we may findit without delay. "

"Upon my word, I don't know what you're talking about. "

"You lie!" the German snapped. "Face about!"

Somebody grasped his shoulders roughly and swung him round to the light, the nose of the pistol shifting to press against his abdomen. 

"Search him, Karl. "

Unseen hands investigated his pockets cunningly. As they finished, the manwho answered to the name of Karl became articulate for the first time, following a grunt of disappointment:

"Nothing--he has it not upon him. "

"Look more thoroughly. Did you think him idiot enough to carry it whereyou'd find it at the first dip? Imbecile!"

For the purpose of this second search Lanyard's garments were rippedopen, and the enemy made sure that he carried nothing next his skin moreincriminating than a money-belt, which was forcibly removed. 

"His shoes--see to his shoes!" the first speaker insisted irritably. "Sitdown, Lanyard!"

A petulant push sent the adventurer reeling across the cabin to fall uponthe lounge seat beneath the port. With some effort he assumed a sittingposition, while Karl, kneeling, hastily unlaced and tore off his shoes andsocks. 

"Nothing, captain, " was the report. 

"Damnation!... Continue to search his luggage. Leave nothing unexamined. In particular look into every hole and corner where none but a fool wouldattempt to hide anything. This fine gentleman imagines we value hisintelligence too highly to believe he would leave the paper in plainsight. "

To an accompaniment of sounds indicating that Karl was obeying hissuperior, this last resumed in a tone of lofty contempt:

"How is it you have abandoned the habit of going armed, Herr Lone Wolf?That is not like you. Is it that you grow unwary through drug-using? Butthat matters nothing. We have more important business to speak over, youand I. You will be very, very docile, and answer promptly, also in a lowvoice, if you would avoid getting hurt. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, " Lanyard replied, furtively working at the bonds on his wrists. 

"Good. We speak together like good friends, yes?"

"Naturally, " said Lanyard. "It is so conducive to chumminess to be caressedwith an automatic pistol--you've no idea!"

"Oblige by speaking German. Our ears are sick with all this bastardEnglish. Also, more quietly speak. Do not put me to the regrettablenecessity of shooting you. "

"How regrettable? You didn't stick at braining those others--"

"Hardly the same thing. You are not like those English swine. You areFrench; and Germany has no hatred for France, but only pity that it sofatuously opposes manifest destiny. In truth, you are not even French, buta great thief; and criminals have no patriotism, nor loyalty to any Statebut their own, the state of moral turpitude. "

The speaker interrupted himself to relish his wit with a thick chuckle. AndLanyard's jaws ached with the strain of self-control. He continued to pluckat the folds of silk while concentrating in effort to memorise the voice, which he failed utterly to place. Undoubtedly this animal was a shipboardacquaintance, one who knew him well; but those detestable German gutturalsdisguised his accents quite beyond identification. 

"For all that, you are not wise so to try my patience. I permit you fiveminutes by my watch in which to make up your mind to surrender thatdocument. "

"How often must I tell you, " Lanyard enquired, "all this talk of documentsis Greek to me?"

"Then you have five minutes to brush up your classical education, andtranslate into terms suited to your intelligence. I will have that documentfrom you or--in four more minutes--shoot you dead. "

To this Lanyard said nothing. But his patient attentions to thehandkerchief round his wrists were beginning perceptibly to be rewarded. 

"Moreover, Herr Lanyard, you will do yourself a very good turn byconfessing--entirely aside from saving your life. "

"How is that?"

"Providing you persuade me of your good faith, I am empowered to offer youemployment in our service. "

Lanyard's breath passed hardly through a throat swollen with rage, chagrin, and hatred, all hopelessly impotent. But he succeeded in preserving anunruffled countenance, as his captor's next words demonstrated. 

"You are surprised, yes? You are thinking it over? Take your time--you havethree minutes more. Or perhaps you are sulky, resenting that our clevernesshas found you out? Be reasonable, my good man. Think: you cannot beinsensible to the honour my offer does you. "

"What do you want of me?"

"First, that paper--thereafter to use your surpassing talents to the gloryof God and Fatherland. In addition, you will be greatly rewarded. "

"Now you do begin to interest me, " Lanyard said coolly.... Surely he couldcontrive some way to slay this beast with his naked hands! He must play fortime.... "How rewarded?"

"As I say, with a place in the Prussian Secret Service, its protection, freedom to ply your trade unhindered in America, even countenanced, tillthat country becomes a German province under German laws. "

"But do I hear you offer this to a Frenchman?"

"Undeceive yourself. Men of all nations to-day, recognising that the starof Germany is in the ascendant, that soon all nations will be German, are hastening to make their peace beforehand by rendering Germany goodservice. "

"Something in that, perhaps, " Lanyard admitted thoughtfully. 

"Think well, my friend.... Yes, Karl?"

The voice of the other spy responded sullenly: "Nothing--absolutelynothing. "

"Two minutes, Herr Lanyard. "

Of a sudden Lanyard's face was violently distorted in a grimace of terror. He lurched his shoulders forward, openly struggling with his bonds. 

"But--good God!" he protested in a voice of terror, "you can't possibly beso unreasonable! I tell you, I haven't got your damned paper!"

A loop of the handkerchief slipped over one hand. 

"Be still! Cease your struggles. And not so loud, my friend!" Theperemptory voice dropped into mockery as Lanyard, pale and exhausted, satback trembling--and a second loop of silk dropped over the other hand. "Soyou begin to appreciate that we mean business, yes? One minute and thirtyseconds!"

"Have mercy!" the adventurer whined desperately--and licked his lips as ifhe found them dry with fear. Now both hands were all but wholly free. True:he remained blindfolded and covered by a deadly weapon. "Give me a chance. I'll do anything you wish! But I can't give you what I haven't got. "

"Be silent! Here, Karl. "

There was a sound of unintelligible murmuring as the two spies conferredtogether. Lanyard writhed in apparent extremity of terror. His hands werefree. He sought hopelessly for inspiration. What to do without arms?

"Be grateful to Karl. He urges that perhaps you know nothing of thedocument. "

"Don't you think I'd tell if I did know?"

"Then you have one minute--no, forty seconds--in which to pledge yourselfto the Prussian Secret Service. "

"You want me to swear--?"

"Certainly. "

"Then hear me, " said Lanyard earnestly: "_You damned canaille_!" And inone movement he tore the bandage from his eyes and launched himself headforemost at the man who stood over him. 

He caught part of an oath drowned out by the splitting report of a pistolthat went off within an inch of his ear. Then his head took the man fullin the belly, and both went sprawling to the deck, Lanyard fighting like amaniac. 

Sheer luck had guided clawing fingers to the right wrist of his antagonist, round which they shut like jaws of a trap. At the same time he wrenched theother's arm high above his head. 

Momentarily expecting the shock of a bullet from the pistol of the secondspy, he found time to wonder that it was so long deferred, and even inthe fury of his struggles, out of the corner of one eye caught a fugitiveglimpse of a tallish man, masked, standing back to the forward partition ina pose of singular indecision, pistol poised in his grasp. 

Then the efforts of his immediate adversary threw him into a position inwhich he was unable to see the other. 

Of a sudden the stateroom was filled with the thunder of an automatic, itsseven cartridges discharged in one brisk, rippling crash. 

It was as if a white-hot iron had been laid across Lanyard's shoulder. Beneath him the man started convulsively, with such force as almost tothrow him off bodily, then relaxed altogether and lay limp and still, pinning one of Lanyard's arms under him. 

Its visor displaced, the face of Baron von Harden was revealed, featuresdistorted, eyes glaring, a frozen mask of hate and terror. 

His arm free, the adventurer rolled away from the corpse in time to see theopen window-port blocked by the body of the other spy. 

Gathering himself together, he snatched up the pistol that dropped from theinert grasp of the dead man, and levelled it at the port. 

But now that space was empty. 

He rose and paused for an instant, his glance instinctively seeking theledge above the hand-basin. 

The hypodermic outfit was there, but minus the phial. 

In the alleyway rose a confusion of running feet and shouting tongues. A heavy banging rang on the door to Stateroom 29. Crane's nasal accentscalled upon Lanyard to open. 

VIII

OFF NANTUCKET

Upon the authors of that commotion Lanyard wasted no considerationwhatever. Let them knock and clamour; he had more urgent work in hand, andknew too well the penalty were he stupid enough to unbolt to them. Theirbodies would dam the doorway hopelessly; insistent hands would hinder him;innumerable importunate enquiries would be dinned at him, all immaterialin contrast with this emergency, a catechism one would need an hour tosatisfy. And all attempts would be futile to make them understand that, while they plagued him with futile questions, a murderer and spy and thiefwas making good his escape, being afforded ample opportunity to slough alltraces of his recent work and resume unchallenged his place among them. 

No; if by any freak of good fortune, any exertion of wit or daring, thatone were to be apprehended, it must be within the next few minutes, itcould only be through immediate pursuit. 

Nor did the adventurer waste time debating the better course. With him, whose ways of life were ceaselessly beset by instant and mortal perils, each with its especial and imperative demand upon his readiness andingenuity, action must ever press so hard upon the heels of thought as tomake the two seem one. 

For that matter, the whole transaction had been characterised by almostunbelievable rapidity. And that square opening of the window-port washardly vacant when Lanyard sprang to his feet; the fugitive had barely timeto find his own upon the outer deck before Lanyard leaped after him; thefirst thumps upon the panels of his door were still echoing when he thrusthead and shoulders out of the port and began to pump the automatic at ashadow fleeing aft upon that narrow breadth of planking between rail andwall. 

Then, at the third shot, the automatic jammed upon a discharged shell. 

Exasperated, the adventurer cast the weapon from him, shrugged hastily outof his unfastened coat and waistcoat, hitched tight his belt, and clamberedthrough the port. 

Dropping to the deck, he turned in time to see the fugitive dart round theshoulder of the superstructure. 

As Lanyard gained the after rail of the promenade deck a man standing onthe boat-deck at the head of the companion-ladder greeted him with pistolfire. He dodged back, untouched, and instantaneously devised a stratagem tocope with this untoward development. 

Overhead, at the side, a lifeboat hung on its davits, ready for emergencylaunching, the gap in the rail which it filled when normally swung inboardspanned only by a length of line. And the darkness in the shadow of theboat was dense, an excellent screen. 

Climbing upon the rail, Lanyard grasped the edge of the deck overhead anddrew himself up undetected by his quarry, whom he espied still holdingthe head of the companion ladder, hidden from the bridge by the afterdeck-house, standing ready to shoot Lanyard should he attempt to renew thepursuit by that approach. 

At the same time, "Karl" seemed mysteriously occupied with some object orobjects in whose manipulation he was hampered to a degree by the necessityunder which he laboured of holding his pistol ready and dividing hisattention. 

A man of good stature, broad at the shoulders, slender at the hips, hepoised himself with athletic grace--the lower part of his face masked bywhat Lanyard took to be a dark silk handkerchief. 

Lanyard heard him swearing in German. 

Then a brisk little spray of sparks jetted from the flint and steel of apatent cigar-lighter in the hands of the spy. And as Lanyard rose from hisknees after ducking beneath the line, a stream of fatter sparks spat fromthe end of a fuse. 

The man leaned over the rail and cast a small black object to which thesputtering fuse was attached, down to the main deck. 

As it struck midway between superstructure and stern it burst intobrilliant flame, releasing upon the night an electric-blue glare that musthave been visible from any point within the compass of the horizon. 

A yell of profane remonstrance saluted the light, and throughout the briefpassage that followed Lanyard was conscious that pistols and rifles on theafter deck below were making him and his antagonist their targets. 

Before the German could face about, Lanyard, moving almost noiselessly inhis bare feet, had covered more than half the intervening space. In anotherbreath he might have had the fellow at a disadvantage. But the distancewas too great. Twice the automatic blazed in his face as he closed in, thebullets clearing narrowly--or else he fancied that their deadly cold breathfanned his cheek. 

Then the spy's weapon in turn went out of action. Half blinded, Lanyardclipped the man round the body and hugged him tight, exerting all his skilland strength to effect a throw. 

That effort failed; his onslaught was met with address and ability thatall but matched his own. The animal he embraced had muscles like temperedsprings and the cunning and fury of a wild beast in a trap. For a momentLanyard was able to accomplish no more than to smother resistance in arib-crushing embrace; no sooner did he relax it than all attempts to shifthis hold were anticipated and met half way, forcing him back upon thedefensive. 

Yet he was given little chance to prove himself the master. The first phaseof the struggle was still in contest when the rear door of the smoking roomopened and a man stepped out, paused, summed up the situation in a glance, seized Lanyard from behind. 

The adventurer felt his arms grasped by hands whose strength seemed littleshort of superhuman, and wrenched back so violently that his very bonescracked. Fairly lifted from his feet, he was held as helpless as an infantkicking in the arms of its nurse. 

Released, the other spy stepped back and swung his left fist viciously toLanyard's jaw. Something in the brain of the adventurer seemed to letgo; his head dropped weakly to one side. The man who had struck him saidquietly, "Loose the fool, Ed, " and followed as Lanyard reeled away, striking him repeatedly. 

For a giddy moment Lanyard was darkly conscious--as one dreams an evildream--of blows raining mercilessly about his head and body, blows thatdrove him back athwartships toward a fate dark and terrible, a great voidof blackness. He felt unutterably weary, and was weakened by a sensation ofnausea. Beneath him his knees buckled. There fell one final blow, ruthlessas the wrath of God. 

He was falling backward into nothingness, into an everlasting gulf of nightthat yawned for him.... 

As he shot under the guard rope and into space between the edge of the deckand the keel of the lifeboat, the spy rounded smartly on a heel and dartedto the smoking-room door. His confederate was in the act of stepping acrossthe raised threshold. He followed, closed the door. 

The first officer, charging aft from the bridge, rounded the deck-house andpulled up with a grunt of surprise to find the deck completely deserted.... 

The shock of icy immersion reanimated Lanyard. 

He felt himself plunging headlong down, down, and down to inky depthsunguessable. The sheer habit of an accustomed swimmer alone bade him holdhis breath. 

Then came a pause: he was no more descending; for a time of indeterminateduration, an age of anguish, he seemed to float without motion, suspendedin frigid purgatory. Against his ribs something hammered like a racingengine. In his ears sounded a vast roaring, the deafening voices of athousand waterfalls. His head felt swollen and enormous, on the point ofbursting wide. 

Without warning expelled from those depths, he shot full half-length out ofwater, and fell back into the milky welter of the _Assyrian's_ wake. 

Instinctively he kept afloat with feeble strokes. 

The cold was bitter, as sharp as the teeth of death; but his head was nowclear, he was able to appreciate what had befallen him. 

Already the _Assyrian_, forging onward unchecked, had left him well astern, her progress distinctly disclosed by that infernal bluish glare spoutingfrom her after deck. 

She seemed absurdly small. Incredulity infected Lanyard's mind. Nothing sotiny, so insignificant, so make-believe as that silhouette of a ship couldconceivably be that great liner, the _Assyrian_.... 

Temporarily a burning pain in his left shoulder drove all otherconsiderations out of mind. The salt water was beginning to smart in theraw, superficial wound made by that assassin's bullet ... Back there in thestateroom ... Long ago.... 

Then the cold began to bite into his marrow, and he struggled manfullyto swim, taking long, slow strokes, at first comparatively powerful, byinsensible degrees losing force. 

Just why he took this trouble he did not know: for some dim reason itseemed desirable to live as long as possible. Withal he was aware he couldnot live. Whether careless or utterly ignorant of his fate, the _Assyrian_was trudging on and on, leaving him ever farther astern, lost beyond rescuein that weird, bleak waste. Even were an alarm to be given, were she tostop now and put out a boat, it would find him, if it found him at all, toolate. 

The cold was killing. 

He felt very sleepy. Drowsily he apprehended the beginning of the end. His senses, growing numb with cold, presently must cease to functionaltogether. Then he would forget, and nothing would matter any more. 

Yet the will to live persisted amazingly. Had Lanyard wished it he couldnot have ceased to swim, at least to keep afloat. Vaguely he wondered howpeople ever managed to commit suicide by drowning; it seemed to pass humanpower to resist that buoyancy which sustained one, to let go, let one'sself go down. Impossible to conceive how that was ever done.... 

Why should he care to go on living?

No reading that riddle!... 

On obscure impulse he gave up swimming, turned upon his back, floated faceto the sky, derelict, resigning himself to the cradling arms of the sea. The gradual, slow rocking of the swells soothed his passion like a kindlyopiate. The cold no more irked him, but seemed somehow strangely anodynous. Imperturbably he envisaged death, without fear, without welcome. What mustbe, must.... 

For all that, life clutched at him with jealous hands. More than eversleepy, before he slept that last, long sleep he must somehow solve thisenigma, learn the reason why life continued so to allure his failingsenses. 

Athwart the drab texture of consciousness wild fancies played like heatlightning in a still midsummer night. 

Death's countenance was kind. 

That wide field of stars, drooping low and lifting away with rhythmicmotion, would sometime dip swiftly down to the very sea itself and, swinging back, take with it his soul to some remote bourne.... 

The deeps were yielding up their mysteries. Past him a huge pale monsterswept at furious pace, hissing grimly as it passed, like some spectralNemesis pursuing the _Assyrian_. 

Indifferently he speculated concerning the reality of this phenomenon. 

The heave of a swell enabled him to glance incuriously after the steamship. She seemed smaller, less genuine than ever, a shadow shape that boastedvisibility solely through that unearthly light on her after deck. Eventhat now had waned to a mere glimmer, the flicker of a candle lost in theimmensities of that night-bound world of empty sky and empty ocean. Even ashe that had been named Michael Lanyard was a lost light, a tiny flame thatguttered toward its swift extinction.... 

Why live, when one might die and, dying, find endless rest?

Like a blazing thunderbolt one word rent the slumbrous web of sentience:_Ekstrom_!

Galvanised by the flood of hatred unpent by the syllables of that name, Lanyard began again to swim, flailing the water with frantic arms as if towin somewhither by the very violence of his efforts. 

This the one cogent reason why he must not, could not, die.... 

Unjust to require him to give up life while that one lived. Unfair.... Itmust not be!... 

Across the sea rolled a dull, brutish detonation. The swimmer, swung highon the bosom of a great swell, saw a vast sheet of fire raving heavenwardfrom the _Assyrian_. 

It vanished instantly. 

When his dazzled vision cleared, he could see no more of the ship. Heimagined a faint, wild rumour of panic voices, conjured up scenes of horrorindescribable as that great fabric sank almost instantaneously, as if somegigantic hand plucked her under. 

What had happened? Had the accomplices of the dead Baron von Harden set offan infernal machine aboard the vessel? In the name of reason, why? They hadgot what they sought, that accursed document, whatever it was, that pagetorn from the Book of Doom. Then why... ?

And to what end had they exploded that light bomb on the after deck?

To make the _Assyrian_ a glaring target in the night--what else? A targetfor what?... 

Of a sudden all rational mental processes were erased from Lanyard'sconsciousness. A wave of pure fear flooded him, body, mind, and soul. Hebegan to struggle like a maniac, fighting the waters that hindered hisflight from some hideous thing that was lifting up from the ocean's ooze todrag him down. 

He heard a voice screaming thinly, and knew it was his own. 

The impossible was happening to him, out there, alone and helpless on theface of the waters. A shape of horror was rising out of the deep to engorgehim. He could feel distinctly the slow, irresistible heave of its bulkbeneath him. His feet touched and slipped upon its horrible sleek flanks. 

His most desperate efforts were all unavailing. He could not escape. Thething came up too rapidly. Following that first mad thrill of contact withit underfoot, he was lifted swiftly and irresistibly into the air. Almostinstantly he was floundering in knee-deep waters that parted, cascadingaway on either hand. Then, elevated well above the sea, he slid and fellprone upon a slimy wet surface. 

His clawing hands clutched something solid and substantial, an upright barof metal. 

Incredulously Lanyard pawed the body of the monster beneath him. His handspassed over a riveted joint of metal plates. Looking up, he made out thetruncated cone of a conning tower with its antennae-like periscope tubesstencilled black upon the soft purple of the star-strewn sky. 

Slowly the truth came home: a submarine had risen beneath him. He lay uponits after deck, grasping a stanchion that supported the small raised bridgeround the conning tower. 

He sobbed a little in sheer hysteric gratitude, that this miracle had beenvouchsafed unto him, that he had thus been spared to live on against hishour with Ekstrom. 

But when he sought to drag himself up to the bridge, he could not, hewas too weak and faint. Ceasing to struggle, he rested in half stupour, panting. 

With a harsh clang a hatch was thrown back. Rousing, Lanyard saw severalfigures emerge from the conning tower. Men uncouthly clothed in shapeless, shiny leather garments, straddled and stretched above him, filling theirlungs with the sweet air. He tried to call to them, but evoked a mererattle from his throat. 

Two came to the edge of the bridge and stood immediately over him, fixingbinoculars to their eyes, their voices quite audible. 

A pang of despair shot through Lanyard when he heard them conferringtogether in the German tongue. 

Death, then, was but a little delayed. 

Thereafter he lay in dumb apathy, save that he shivered and his teethchattered uncontrollably. 

Through the torpor that rested like a black cloud upon his senses he caughtbroken phrases, snatches of sentences:

"... _sinking fast ... Struck square amidships ... Broke her back_.... "

"... _trouble with her boats. There goes one over_!... "

"... _fools jumping overboard like cattle_.... "

"_What's that rocket? Do the swine want us to shell their boats_?"

"_Why not? They're asking for it_!"

One of the officers lowered his glasses and barked a series of sharpcommands. The crew on deck leaped to attention. One leaned over theconning-tower hatch and shouted to his mates below. A hatch forward ofthe tower opened, and a quick-firing gun on a disappearing carriage swungsmoothly and silently up from its lair. 

The other officer, looking down, started violently. 

"_Verdammt_! What's this?"

The first rejoined him. "Impossible!"

"Impossible or not--a man or a cadaver!"

"Have him up and see.... "

By order, two of the crew dragged Lanyard up to the bridge, supporting himby main strength while the officers examined him. 

"At the last gasp, but alive, " one announced. 

"How the devil did he get out here?"

"From the _Assyrian_--"

"Impossible for any man to swim this far since our torpedo struck--"

"Then he must have gone overboard before it struck--or was thrown--"

A cry of alarm from the group about the gun, awaiting final orders to openfire upon the _Assyrian's_ boats, interrupted the conference. The officersswung away in haste. 

"Hell's fury! what's that searchlight?"

"A Yankee destroyer--in all probability the one we dodged yesterdayafternoon. "

"She'll find us yet if we don't submerge. Forward, there--house that gun!And get below--quickly!"

During a moment of apparent confusion, one of the men sustaining Lanyardcaught the attention of an officer. 

"What shall we do with this fellow, sir?" he enquired. 

"Leave him here to sink or swim as we go down, " snapped the officer--"andbe damned to him!"

With a supreme effort the adventurer sank his fingers deep into the arms ofthe two men. 

"Wait!" he gasped faintly in German. "On the Emperor's service--"

"What's that?" The officer turned back sharply. 

"Imperial Secret Service, " Lanyard faltered--"PersonalDivision--Wilhelmstrasse Number 27--"

A brilliant glare settled suddenly upon the deck of the submarine, and waswelcomed by a panicky gust of oaths. One officer had already popped throughthe conning-tower hatch, followed by several of the crew. There remainedonly those supporting Lanyard, and the second officer. 

"Take him below!" the latter ordered. "He may be telling the truth. Ifnot.... "

In the distance a gun boomed. A shell shrieked over the submarine anddropped into the sea not a hundred yards to starboard. The men rushedLanyard toward the conning tower. He tried feebly to help them. In thateffort consciousness was altogether blotted out.... 

IX

SUB SEA

When he opened his eyes again he was resting, after a fashion, nakedbetween harsh, damp blankets in a narrow, low-ceiled bunk inches too shortfor one of his stature. 

After an experimental squirm or two he lay very still; his back and all hislimbs were stiff and sore, his bullet-seared shoulder burned intolerablybeneath a rudely applied first-aid dressing, and he was breathing heavilylong, labouring inhalations of an atmosphere sickeningly dank, close, andfoul with unspeakable stenches, for which the fumes of sulphuric acid witha rank reek of petroleum and lubricating oils formed but a modest andretiring background. 

Also his head felt very thick and dull. He found it extremely difficult tothink, and for some time, indeed, was quite unable to think to any purpose. 

His very eyes ached in their sockets. 

In the ceiling glowed an electric bulb, dimly illuminating a cubicle barelybig enough to accommodate the bunk, a dresser, and a small desk with afolding seat. The inner wall was a slightly concave surface of steel plateswhose seams oozed moisture. In the opposite wall was a sliding door, open, beyond which ran a narrow alleyway floored with metal grating. Everythingin sight was enamelled with white paint and clammy with the sweat of thatfoetid air. 

Over all an unnatural hush brooded, now and again accentuated by a rumbleof distant voices and gusts of vacant laughter, once or twice by a curiouspopping. For a long time he heard nothing else whatever. The effect wassingularly disquieting and did its bit to quicken torpid senses to grasphis plight. 

Sluggishly enough Lanyard pieced together fragments of lurid memories, reconstructing the sequence of last night's events scene by scene to themoment of his rescue by the U-boat. 

So, it appeared, he was aboard a German submersible, virtually a prisoner, though posing as an agent of the Personal Intelligence Department of theGerman Secret Service. 

To that inspiration of failing consciousness he owed his life, or suchof its span as now remained to him, a term whose duration could only bedefined by his ability to carry off the imposture pending problematicopportunity to escape. And, assuming that this last were ever offered him, there was no present possibility of guessing how long it might not bedeferred. 

Its butcher's mission successfully accomplished, the U-boat was notimprobably even now en route for Heligoland, beginning a transatlanticcruise of weeks that might never end save in a nameless grave at the bottomof the Four Seas. 

Only the matter of impersonation failed to embarrass in prospect. A naturallinguist, Lanyard's three years within the German lines had put a rarefinish upon his mastery of German. More than this, he was well versed inthe workings of the Prussian spy system. As Dr. Paul Rodiek, WilhelmstrasseAgent Number 27, he was safe as long as he found no acquaintance of thatgentleman in the complement of the submarine; for, largely upon informationfurnished by Lanyard himself, Dr. Rodiek had been secretly apprehendedand executed in the Tower the day before Lanyard left London to join the_Assyrian_. 

But the question of the U-boat's present whereabouts and its movementsin the immediate future disturbed the adventurer profoundly. He waselaborately incurious about Heligoland; and several weeks' associationwith the Boche in the close quarters of a submarine was a prospect thatrevolted. Wellnigh any fate were preferable.... 

Uncertain footsteps sounded in the alleyway, paused at the entrance to hiscubicle. He turned his head wearily on the pillow. In the doorway stooda man whose slenderly elegant carriage of a Prussian officer was notdisguised even by his shapeless wreck of a naval lieutenant's uniform, aman with a countenance of singularly unpleasant cast, leaving out of allconsideration the grease and grime that discoloured it. His narrow foreheadslanted back just a trace too sharply, his nose was thin and overlong, hismouth thin and cruel beneath its ambitious mustache à la Kaiser; his smallblack eyes, set much too close together, blazed with unholy exhilaration. 

As soon as he spoke Lanyard understood that he was drunk, drunk with morethan the champagne of which he presently boasted. 

"Awake, eh?" he greeted Lanyard with a mirthless snarl. "You've slept likethe dead man I took you for at first, my friend--a solid fourteen hours, myword for it! Feeling better now?"

Lanyard's essays to reply began and ended in a croak for water. ThePrussian nodded, disappeared, returned with an aluminium cup of stale coldwater mixed with a little brandy. 

"Champagne if you like, " he offered, as Lanyard, painfully propping himselfup on an elbow, gulped like an animal from the vessel held to his lips. "Weare holding a little celebration, you know. "

Lanyard dropped back to the pillow, the question in his eyes. 

"Celebrating our success, " the Prussian responded. "We got her, and thatmeans much honour and a long furlough to boot, when we get home, just asfailure would have spelled--I don't like to think what. I shouldn't care tofill the shoes of those poor devils who let the _Assyrian_ escape them offIreland, I can tell you. "

Something very much like true fear flickered in his small eyes as hepondered the punishment meted out to those who failed. 

So the U-boat was homeward bound! Strange one noticed no motion of herprogress, heard no noise of machinery. 

"Where are we?" Lanyard whispered. 

"Peacefully asleep on the bottom, about five miles south of Martha'sVineyard, waiting till it is dark enough to slip in to our base. "

"Base?"

The Prussian hiccoughed and giggled. "On the south shore of the Vineyard, "he confided with alcoholic glee: "snuggest little haven heart could wish, well to the north of all deep-sea traffic; and the coastwise trade runsstill farther north, through Vineyard Sound, other side the island. Nota soul ever comes that way, not a soul suspects. How should they?The admirable charts of the Yankee Coast and Geodetic Survey"--hesneered--"show no break in the south beach of the island, between the oceanand the ponds. But there is one. The sea made the breach during a gale, ourpeople helped with a little Trotyl, tides and storms did the rest. Now wecan enter a secluded, landlocked harbour with just enough water at lowtide, and lie hidden there till the word comes to move again--three milesof dense scrub forest, all privately owned as a game preserve, fenced andpatrolled, between us and the nearest cultivated land--and friends inplenty on the island to keep all our needs supplied--petroleum, freshvegetables, champagne, all that. Just the same we take no chances--nevermake our landfall by day, never enter or leave harbour except at night. "

He paused, contemplating Lanyard owlishly. "Ought not to tell you allthis, I presume, " he continued, more soberly, though the wild light stillflickered ominously in his eyes. "But it is safe enough; you will see foryourself in a few hours; and then ... Either you are all right, or you willnever live to tell of it. We radio'd for information about WilhelmstrasseNumber 27 just before dawn, after we had dodged that damned Yankeedestroyer. Ought to get an answer to-night, when we come up. "

Heavier footsteps rang in the alleyway. The Prussian made a grimace ofdislike. 

"Here comes the commander, " he cautioned uneasily. 

A great blond Viking of a German in the uniform of a captain shoulderedheavily through the doorway and, acknowledging the salute of the rat-facedsubaltern with a bare nod, stood looking down at Lanyard in taciturnsilence, hostility in his blood-shot blue eyes. 

"How long since he wakened?" he asked thickly, with the accent of aBavarian. 

"A minute or two ago. "

"Why did you not inform me?"

The tone was offensively domineering, thanks like enough to drink, nerves, and hatred of his job and all things and persons pertaining to it. 

The subaltern coloured. "He asked for water--I got it for him. "

The commander stared churlishly, then addressed Lanyard: "How are you now?"

"Very faint, " Lanyard said truthfully. But he would have lied had it beenotherwise with him. It was his book to make time in which to collect histhoughts, concoct a bullet-proof story, plan against an adverse answer tothat wireless enquiry. 

"Can you eat, drink a little champagne?"

Lanyard nodded slightly, adding a feeble "Please. "

The Bavarian glanced significantly at his subaltern, who hastened to leavethem. 

"Who are you? What is your name?"

"Dr. Paul Rodiek. "

"Your employment?"

"Personal Intelligence Bureau--confidential agent. "

"What were you doing on board the _Assyrian_?"

Lanyard mustered enough strength to look the man squarely in the eye. 

"Pardon, " he said coldly. "You must know your question is indiscreet. "

"I must know more about you. "

"It should be enough, " Lanyard ventured boldly, "to know that I set offthat flare as arranged, at risk of my life. "

"How came you overboard?"

"In the scuffle caused by my lighting the flare. "

"So you tell me. But we found you half clothed, lacking any sort ofidentification. Am I to accept your unsupported word?"

"My papers are naturally at the bottom of the sea, in the garments Idiscarded lest their weight drag me down. If you have doubts, " Lanyardcontinued firmly, "it is your privilege to settle them by communicating viaradio with Seventy-ninth Street. "

He shut his eyes wearily and turned his head aside on the pillow, confidentthat this reference to the headquarters and secret wireless station of thePrussian spy system in New York would win him peace for a time at least. 

After a moment the commander uttered a non-committal grunt. "We shall see, "he prophesied darkly, and went away. 

Later, one of the crew brought Lanyard a dish of greasy stew and potatoes, lukewarm, with bread and a half-bottle of excellent champagne. 

He ate all he could stomach of the first, devoured the second ravenously, and drained the bottle of its ultimate life-giving drop. 

Then, immeasurably refreshed and fortified in body and spirit, he turnedface to the wall, composed himself as if to sleep, shut his eyes, adjustedthe tempo of his respiration, and lay quite still, wide awake and thinkinghard. 

After a while somebody tramped into the cubicle, bent over Lanyardinquisitively and, satisfied that he slept, retired, taking away the emptybottle and dishes. 

Otherwise his meditations were disturbed only by those echoes of revelryin honour of the late manifestation of the Hun's divine right to do wantonmurder on the high seas. 

The rumour waxed and waned, died into dull mutterings, broke out afresh inspurts of merriment that held an hysterical note. Once a quarrel sprang upand was silenced by the commander's deep, unpleasant tones. Corks poppedspasmodically. Again there were sounds much like a man's sobbing; but thesewere promptly blared down by a phonograph with a typically American accent. When that palled, a sentimental disciple of frightfulness sang Tannenbaumin a melting tenor. 

Everything tended to effect an impression that all, commander and meanestmechanic alike, were making forlorn efforts to forget. 

Devoutly Lanyard prayed they might be successful, at least until thesubmarine made her secret base. If too much alcohol was bad, too muchbrooding was infinitely worse for the German temperament. He rememberedone U-boat commander who, returning to the home port after a conspicuouslysuccessful cruise, had been taken ashore in a strait-jacket. 

Lanyard himself did not care to dwell upon those scenes which must havebeen enacted on board the _Assyrian_ after the torpedo struck.... 

Deliberately ignoring all else, he set himself the task of reviewing thoseevents which had led up to his going overboard. 

One by one he considered the incidents of that night, painstakinglydissected them, examined their every phase in minute analysis, weighing forulterior meaning every word uttered in his presence, harking even fartherback to reconstruct his acquaintance with each actor from the very momentof its inception, seeking that hint which he was convinced must besomewhere hidden in the history of the affair, waiting only recognition tolead straightway out of this gloomy maze of mystery into a sunlit open ofunderstanding. 

In vain: there was an ambiguity in that business to baffle the keenest andmost pertinacious investigation. 

The conduct of Cecelia Brooke alone bristled with inconsistenciesinexplicable, the conduct of the German spies no less. 

To get better perspective upon the problem, he reduced the premises totheir barest summary:

A valuable dossier brought on board the _Assyrian_ (no matter by whom) hadcome into the possession of British agents, with the knowledge of CaptainOsborne. Thackeray had secreted it in that fraudulent bandage. Germanagents, apparently under the leadership of Baron von Harden, had waylaidhim, knocked him senseless, unwrapped the bandage, but somehow (probablyin the first instance through the interference of the Brooke girl) hadoverlooked the document. Subsequently the Brooke girl had found andentrusted it to Lanyard. (No matter why!) He on his part had exerted hisutmost inventiveness in hiding it away. Nevertheless it had been discoveredand abstracted within an hour. 

By whom?

Not improbably by the Brooke girl herself. Repenting her impulsiveness, after leaving Lanyard with the captain, from whom she had doubtless learnedthe truth about "Monsieur Duchemin, " she might well have gone directly toLanyard's stateroom and hit upon the morphia phial as the likeliest hidingplace without delay, thanks to prior acquaintance with the proportions ofthe paper cylinder. 

But why should she have assumed that Lanyard had not disposed of the trustabout his person?

Not impossibly the thing had been found by the first officer of the_Assyrian_, searching by order of the captain--as Lanyard assumed he had. 

But, if Mr. Warde had found it, he had not reported his find whentelephoning to Captain Osborne; or else the latter had gone to greatlengths to mystify Lanyard. 

There remained the chance that the paper had been stolen by one of the twoGerman agents--by either without the knowledge of the other. 

If Baron von Harden had found it--necessarily before Lanyard returnedto the room--he had subsequently been at elaborate pains to conceal hissuccess from both his victim and his confederate. Why? Did he distrust thelatter? Again, why?

If "Karl" had been the thief, it must have been after Lanyard's return, and while the Baron was preoccupied with the task of keeping the prisonerquiet, to let the search proceed. 

In that event "Karl" had lied deliberately to his superior. Why? Becausethe document was salable, and "Karl" intended to realize its value for hispersonal benefit?

Not an unlikely explanation. Nor could this be called the first instance inwhich the Prussian spy system, admirably organized though it was, had beenbetrayed by one of its own agents. 

This hypothesis, too, accounted for that most perplexing circumstance ofall, the murder of Baron von Harden. For Lanyard was fully persuaded thathad been nothing less than premeditated murder, in no way an accident offaulty aim. Even the most nervous and unstrung man could hardly have missedsix shots out of seven, point blank. A nervous man, indeed, could hardlyhave gained his own consent to take so hideous a chance of injuring orkilling a collaborator. 

It appeared, then, that one of four things had happened to the cylinder ofpaper:

Miss Brooke had taken it back into her own care. In which case Lanyard wasno more concerned. 

Captain Osborne had secured it through Mr. Warde. This, however, Lanyarddid not seriously credit. 

It had gone to the bottom when the _Assyrian_ sank with the body--amongothers--of Baron von Harden. 

Or "Karl" had stolen it. 

Privately, indeed, Lanyard rather inclined to hope that the last mightprove to be the true solution. He desired earnestly to meet "Karl" oncemore, on equal terms. And the more counts in the score, the greater hissatisfaction in exacting a reckoning in full. 

But he anticipated. That chapter might only too possibly have been closedforever by the hand of Death. As yet he knew nothing concerning themortality of the _Assyrian_ débâcle. He had not enquired of the officers ofthe U-boat because they knew little if anything more than he. Their glasseshad discovered to them trouble with the lifeboats; they had spoken of oneboat capsizing, of "people going overboard like cattle. " There must havebeen many drownings, even with a United States destroyer near by andspeeding to the rescue. 

A single question troubled Lanyard greatly. Officers and crew of the U-boathad betrayed profoundest consternation upon the advent of that destroyer, presumably a warship of a neutral nation. And that same ship had withouthesitation fired upon the submarine. 

Was it possible, then, that the United States had already declared war onGermany?

It seemed extremely probable; in such event these Germans would have beennotified instantly by wireless from the New York bureau of their country'sSecret Service; whereas, Captain Osborne, receiving the same advice bywireless, might reasonably have kept it quiet lest the news stir to moreformidable activity those agents of the Wilhelmstrasse whose presence amongthe passengers he must at least have strongly suspected. 

Presently the closeness of the atmosphere began to work upon Lanyard'sperceptions. In spite of his long rest, a new drowsiness drugged hissenses. He yielded without struggle, knowing he would soon need every ounceof strength and vitality that sleep could give him.... 

The din of an inferno startled him awake. Those narrow metal walls wereechoing a clangour of machinery maniacal in character and overpowering involume. Clankings, tappings, hissings, coughings, clatterings, stridulationof a wireless spark, drone of dynamos, shrewdish scolding of Diesel motorsdeveloping two thousand horsepower, individual efforts of some two thousandvalves, combined--or, declined to combine--in a cacophony like nothingunder the sun but the chant of a submersible under way on the surface. 

Lanyard, gratefully aware of a current of fresh air sweeping through thehold, rolled out of his bunk to find that, while he slept, clothing hadbeen provided for him, rough but adequate; heavy woollen underwear andsocks, a sweater, a dungaree coat, trousers of the same stuff, all vilelydamp, and a friendless pair of oil-sodden shoes: the sweepings of a dozenlockers, but as welcome as disreputable. 

Dressed, he turned aft through the alleyway, entering immediately thecentral operating room and storm center of that typhoon of noise, awilderness of polished machinery in active being. 

Of the score or more leather-clad machinists silent at their posts, nonepaid him more heed than a passing, incurious glance as he crossed to anarrow steel companion ladder and ascended to the conning tower. This hefound deserted; but its deck-hatch was open. He climbed out to the bridge. 

The night was calm and heavily overcast, with no sea more than long, slowswells. Through its windless quiet the U-boat racketed with the ravingabandon of the Spirit of Discord on a spree in a boiler factory. To theriot of its internal strife was added the remonstrance of waters sliced bythe stem and flung back by the sides, a prolonged and stertorous hiss likethe rending of an endless sheet of canvas. 

To eyes new from the electric illumination of the hold, the blackness waspositive, with the palpable quality of an element, relieved alone by thedull glow of the binnacle housing the gyroscope telltale, from which thefaintest of golden reflections struck back to pick out a pair of seeminglysevered fists gripping the handles of the bridge steering wheel with asingular effect of desperation. 

For some moments Lanyard could see nothing more. 

The mirthless chuckle of the lieutenant sounded at his elbow. 

"So the good Herr Doctor thought he had better come up for air, eh? Myfriend, the very dead might envy you the sincerity of your slumbers. Wehave been half an hour on the surface, with all this uproar--and you areonly just wakened!"

"Half an hour?" Lanyard repeated thoughtfully. "Then we should be closein.... "

"Give us ten minutes more ... If we don't go aground in this accursedblackness!"

A broad-shouldered body passed between Lanyard and the binnacle, momentarily eclipsing its light. Down below in the operating room a bellshrilled, and of a sudden the Diesels were silenced. 

The dead quiet that followed the sharp extinction of that hubbub was asstartling as the detonation of high explosive had been. 

Through this sudden stillness the submarine slipped stealthily, the hissingbeneath her bows dying down to gentle sibilance. 

From forward the calls of an invisible leadsman were audible. In responsethe commander uttered throaty orders to the helmsman at his elbow, andthose unattached hands shifted the wheel minutely. 

Lanyard started to speak, but a growl from the captain, and a touch of thelieutenant's hand on his sleeve cautioned him to silence. 

There was a small pause. The vessel seemed to have lost way altogether, toswim like a spirit ship that Stygian tide. The lieutenant moved forward, leaving Lanyard alone. The voice of the leadsman was stilled. By the wheelthe captain stood absolutely motionless, his body vaguely silhouettedagainst the glow of the binnacle. The hands that gripped the wheel sosavagely were as steady as if carven out of stone. An atmosphere ofsuspense enveloped the boat like a cloud. 

Lanyard grew conscious of something huge and formidable, a denser shadow inthe darkness beyond the bows, the loom of land. Off to starboard a pointof light appeared abruptly, precisely as if a golden pin had punctured theblack blanket of the night. The captain growled gutturals of relief andcommand. The hands on the wheel shifted, steering exceeding small. A secondlight shone out to port, then shifted slowly into range with the first, till the two were as one. Again the bell sang in the operating room, andthe vessel forged ahead quietly to the urge of electric motors alone. Athird light and a fourth appeared, well apart to port and starboard, therange lights precisely equidistant between them. Between these the U-boatmoved swiftly. They swam back on either hand and were abruptly extinguishedas if the night, resenting their insolent trespass, had gobbled both at agulp. 

The temperature became sensibly warmer and the salt air of the sea wasstrongly tinctured with the sweet smell of pines and forest mould. 

Up forward carbons sputtered and spat; a searchlight was unsheathed andcarved the gloom as if it was butter, ranging swiftly over the tree-cladshore of a burnished black lagoon, picking out en passant several unpaintedwooden structures, then steadying on a long and substantial landing stage, on which several men stood waiting. 

X

AT BASE

As the U-boat, with motors dead and way lessening, glided up alongsidethe head of that T-shaped landing stage and was made fast, the wirelessoperator popped up from below, saluted the commander, and delivered awritten message. 

Lanyard, instinctively aware that this was the expected report fromSeventy-ninth Street on Dr. Paul Rodiek, quietly pulled himself togetherand took quick observations. 

At best his chances in the all-too-probable emergency were far frombrilliant. Yet one might better perish trying, however hopelessly, thanpassively submit to being shot down. 

The lieutenant, waspishly superintending the work of crew and base guardsat the mooring lines, stood preoccupied within an arm's length; while thelanding stage was a fair six feet away. From its T-head to the shore, thedistance was nothing less than two hundred yards. 

Desperate action and miraculous luck might take the Prussian by surpriseand enable one to snatch the service automatic from its holster at hisbelt, leap to the stage, and shoot a way landward through the guardsclustered there; after which everything would depend on swiftness of footand the uncertain light permitting one to gain a refuge in the surroundingwoodland without a bullet in one's back. 

It was a sorry hope.... 

With catlike attention Lanyard watched the hands holding that paper to thebinnacle light--large hands, heavy and muscular but tremulous with drinkand nervous reaction from the long strain and cumulative horror of thecruise then ending. Their aim would not be good, except by accident. Nonethe less, if the report were unfavourable, their first gesture would betoward the holster, signalling to Lanyard that the moment had come toinitiate heroic measures. 

The Bavarian was an unconscionable time absorbing the import of themessage. Bending his face close to the paper, the better to make out thewriting, he read with moving lips, slowly, a doltish frown of concentrationclouding his congested countenance. 

At length, however, he stood up, swaying a little as he folded and pocketedthe paper. 

Lanyard relaxed. The man was too far gone in drink to be crafty, too sureof his absolute power of life and death to imagine a need for craft. Sincehis hand had not immediately sought the holster, it would not. 

Turbid accents uttered the name of Dr. Rodiek. 

Lanyard stepped forward alertly. "Yes, Herr Captain?"

"New York says it had no knowledge of your intention to leave England onthe _Assyrian_, but that you may well have done so. The Wilhelmstrasse willknow, of course. It has already been telegraphed. Pending its reply, I amto detain you. "

"How long?" Lanyard demurred. 

"As you know, transatlantic communications must now go by land telegraph tothe Border, by hand into Mexico, thence by radio via Venezuela to Berlin. All that takes time. Also, we may not signal New York but at stated timesof night. You will be detained another twenty-four hours at least, possiblylonger. "

"My errand cannot wait. "

"It must. "

"You will obstruct the business of the Imperial Government at your peril. "

"I would incur still greater peril did I let you go, " the commander repliednervously. "With these swine-dogs at war with the Fatherland, our lives arenot worth _that_ should this base be betrayed. "

"Do I understand America has declared war?"

"Two days since. Did you not know?"

"The _Assyrian's_ wireless room was under guard: the captain published nobulletins whatever. "

The Bavarian gave a gesture of impatience. 

"You will remain on board for the night, " he announced heavily. 

"Pardon!" Lanyard insisted with every evidence of anxious excitement. "What you tell me makes it more than ever imperative that I reach New Yorkwithout an hour's avoidable delay. I warn you, think well before you hinderthe discharge of my duty. "

"It is not necessary that I think, " the commander replied. "My thinking hasall been done for me. Me, I obey my orders; it is not my part to questiontheir wisdom. Moreover, Herr Doctor, to my mind your insistence is to saythe least suspicious. Even had I discretion in the matter, I should holdyou. Therefore, you will keep a civil tongue in your head, or go below inirons immediately!"

He swung on his heel, showing an insolent back while he conferred with hissubaltern. 

And Lanyard shrugged appreciation of the futility of more contentionagainst such mulishness. Not that the Bavarian was not right enough! As tothat, one had really hoped for no better issue; but every shift is worthtrial till proved worthless; and he was no worse off now than if he hadsubmitted without complaint. Still one had Chance to look to for aid andcomfort in this stress; and Chance, the jade, is not always unkind to heraudacious suitors. 

Even now she flashed upon Lanyard a provoking intimation of her smile. He began to divine possibilities in this overt ill-feeling between theofficers; advantage might be made of the racial hostility of Prussian andBavarian. 

The commander's attitude and tone were consistently overbearing, if hiswords were inaudible to Lanyard. The lieutenant quite evidently submittedonly in form; his salute was punctiliously correct and curt; and as thecommander lumbered off down the landing stage, he grumbled indistinctly inLanyard's hearing:

"Dog of a Bavarian!"

"The good Herr Captain, " Lanyard suggested pleasantly, "is not in the mostagreeable of tempers, yes?"

The high and well-born lieutenant spat comprehensively into the darknessoverside. After a moment of hesitation he moved nearer and spoke inconfidential accents. And the fragrant air of the night was tainted withthe vinous effluvium of his breath. 

"Always he prattles of his precious duty!" the Prussian muttered. "Damn hisduty! Look you, Herr Doctor: months we have been on this cruise, yes, morethan three months out of Heligoland, penned together in this ramshacklestinkpot, or isolated here in this God-forgotten hole, seeing nothing oflife, hearing nothing of the world but what little the radio tellsus--sick of the very sight of one another's faces! And now, when we haveaccomplished a glorious feat and have every right to look for prompt recalland the rewards of heroes, orders come to remain indefinitely and operateagainst the North Atlantic fleet of the contemptible Yankee navy! The lifeof a dog! And that noble commander of mine pretends to welcome it, talksof one's duty to the Fatherland--as if he liked the work any better thanI!--solely to spite me!"

"But why?"

"Because he hates me, " the lieutenant snarled passionately--"hates me evenas I hate him--he knows how well!"

He interrupted himself to define his conception of the commander'scharacter in the freest vernacular of the Berlin underworld. 

Lanyard laughed amiably. "They are like that, " he agreed--"thoseBavarians!"

Which inspired the Prussian to deliver a phosphorescent diatribe on theracial traits of the Bavarian people as comprehended by the North Germanjunker. 

"To be cooped up God knows how long in this putrescent death-trap with suchcattle, " he concluded mutinously--"it passes all endurance!"

"I wonder you stand it, " Lanyard sympathised--"a man of spirit and goodbirth, as one readily perceives. Though the life of a secret agent is notaltogether heavenly either, if you ask me, " he added gratuitously. "Regardme now, charged with a mission of most vital moment--more than ever sosince the Yankees have shown their teeth--delayed here indefinitely becauseyour excellent Herr Captain chooses to doubt my word. "

"Patience. Maybe your release comes quickly. Then he will regret--or wouldhad he wit enough. There is no cure for a fool. " The sententiousness ofthis aphorism was unhappily marred by a hiccough. "Anybody with eyes in hishead could see you are what you are.... "

The last of the operating-room crew piled up the hatchway, saluted, andhurried ashore to join in noisy jubilations. There remained on the U-boatonly the lieutenant with Lanyard, and two base guards detailed as anchorwatch. 

"I must go, " the lieutenant volunteered. "And believe me, one welcomes achange of clothing and a dry bed after a week in this reeking sieve. As foryou, my friend, if it lay with me, you should receive the treatment duea gentleman. " A wave of maudlin camaraderie affected him. He passed anaffectionate arm through Lanyard's and was suffered, though the gorge ofthe adventurer revolted at the familiarity. "I am sorry to leave you. No, do not be astonished! No protestations, please! It is quite true. I know aman of the right sort when I meet one, the sort even I can associate withwithout loss of self-respect. It is a great pity you may not come with meand make a night of it. "

"Another time, perhaps, " Lanyard said. "The night may yet come when you andI shall meet at the Metropole or the Admiral's Palace.... Who knows?"

"Ah!" sighed the Prussian, enchanted. "What a night that will be, myfriend!... But now, it is too bad, I really must ask you to step below. Such are my silly orders. I am made responsible for you. What do you thinkof that for a joke, eh?"

He laughed vacantly but loudly, and, attempting to poke a derisive thumbinto Lanyard's ribs, lost his balance. 

"What a responsibility!" said Lanyard gravely, holding him up. 

"Nonsense, that's what it is. You have no possible chance to escape. "

"Suppose I make one--tip you overboard, take to my heels--?"

"You would be shot like a rabbit before you got half way to the shore. "

"Ah, but grant, for the sake of argument, that these brave fellows, theguards, aim poorly in this gloom?"

"Where would you go? Into the forest, naturally. But how far? You maybelieve me when I tell you, not a hundred yards. It's a true wilderness, scrub-oak and cedar and second growth choked with underbrush, almosttrackless. In five minutes you would be helplessly lost, in this blackness, with no stars to steer by. We need only wait till daylight to find youwalking in a circle. "

"You can't mean, " Lanyard pursued, learning something helpful every moment, "there is no communicating road?"

"The main woods road, yes: but that is far too well patrolled. Without thecountersign, you would be caught or shot a dozen times before you reachedthe end of it. "

"Ah, well!"--with the sigh of a philosopher--"then I presume there's no wayout but by swimming. "

"Over to the beach you mean? Well, what then? You have got a twenty-milewalk either way through deep sand sure to betray your footprints. At dawnwe follow and bag you at our leisure. "

"You are discouraging!" Lanyard complained. "I see I may as well go belowand be good. It's a dull life. "

"Tell you what, " giggled the lieutenant, leading his prisoner to theconning-tower hatch and lowering his voice: "do just that, go below and benice, and presently I will come back and we'll split a bottle. What do yousay to that, eh?"

"Colossal!"

"Not a bad notion, is it? I like it myself. One gets weary for the societyof a gentleman, you've no idea.... As soon as my commander is drunk enough, I will slip away. How's that?"

"Grossartig!" Lanyard approved, turning to descend. 

"Wait. You shall see for yourself what it means to have the friendship ofa man of my stamp. " The lieutenant raised his voice, addressing the anchorwatch: "Attention. Heed with care: this gentleman is my friend. He isdetained merely as a matter of form. I do not wish him to be annoyed. Doyou understand? You are to leave him to himself as long as he remainsquietly below. But he is not to come on deck again till I return. Is allthat clear, imbeciles?"

The imbeciles, saluting mechanically, indicated glimmerings ofcomprehension. 

"Then below you go, Dr. Rodiek. And don't get impatient: I will rejoin youas soon as possible. "

"Don't be long, " Lanyard implored. 

As he lowered himself through the hatch he saw the Prussian stumble downthe gangplank and reel shoreward. 

Well satisfied with his diplomacy, Lanyard lingered a while in the conningtower, closely studying and memorising the more salient features of theIsland of Martha's Vineyard and its adjacent waters and mainland asdelineated on a most comprehensive large-scale chart published by theGerman Admiralty from exhaustive soundings and surveys of its ownnavigators and typographers, with corrections of as recent date as thefirst part of the year 1917. 

Here the breach in the south coast line which permitted the utilisationof what had formerly been an extensive fresh-water pond as this secretsubmarine base, was clearly shown. And a single glance confirmed thelieutenant's statement concerning its remote isolation from settledsections of the island. 

Somewhat dismayed, Lanyard descended to the central operating compartmentand scouted through the hold from bow bulkhead to stern, making certain heenjoyed undisputed privacy. And it was so; every man-jack of the U-boat'spersonnel--jaded to the marrow with its cramped accommodations, unremittingtoil and care, unsanitary smells and forbidding associations--havingnaturally seized the earliest opportunity to escape so loathsome a prison. 

Lanyard, however, was anything but resentful of condemnation to thissolitary confinement. His interest in the interior arrangements ofsubmersibles seemed all but feverish, as intense as sudden; witness theminute attention to detail which marked his second tour of inspection. Onthis round he took his time. He had all night in which to work out hissalvation; the wildest schemes were revolving in his mind, the leastfantastic utterly impracticable without accurate knowledge of many matters;and such knowledge might be gained only through patient investigation andungrudging expenditure of time. 

It was now something past ten by the chronometers. He could hardly do muchbefore dawn, lacking the instinct of a red Indian to guide him throughthat night-bound waste of woodland. So he felt little need to slight hisresearches through haste, except in anticipation of his lieutenant'sreturn. And as to that, Lanyard was moderately incredulous: he expected tosee nothing more of this new-found friend, unless the infatuation of thePrussian proved far stronger than his head. 

Turning first to the private quarters of the commander, a somewhat morecommodious cubicle than that across the alleyway in which Lanyard had beenberthed, his interest was attracted by a small safe anchored to the deckbeneath the desk. 

To this Lanyard addressed himself without hesitation, solving the secretof its combination readily through exercise of the most rudimentary ofprofessional principles. The problem it offered, indeed, was child's playto such cunning of touch and hearing as had made the reputation of the LoneWolf. 

Open, the safe discovered to him a variety of articles of interest:some five thousand dollars in English and American banknotes of largedenomination, several hundred in American gold; three distinct ciphercodes, one of these wholly novel in Lanyard's experience and so, hebelieved, in the knowledge of the Allied secret services; the log of theU-boat and the intimate diary of its commander, both in cryptograph; acompact directory of German agents domiciled in Atlantic coast ports; avery considerable accumulation of German Admiralty orders; together withmany documents of lesser moment. 

Rapidly sorting out the more valuable of these, Lanyard disposed them abouthis person, then confiscated the banknotes as indemnity for his stolenmoney-belt, replaced the rejections, and reclosed and locked the safe. 

His next interest was to arm himself. After several disappointments hediscovered arms-lockers beneath the berths for the crew in the forwardcompartment just aft of that devoted to torpedo tubes. Here he selecteda latest pattern German navy automatic pistol with three extra cartridgeclips and, after some hesitation, a peculiarly devilish magazine riflefiring explosive bullets. The latter he placed handily, yet out of sight, near the foot of the companion ladder. The pistol fitted snugly a trouserspocket, its bulk hidden by the sag of his sweater.... 

Some time later the lieutenant, slipping down the ladder, found Lanyardstudying with a convincing aspect of childlike bewilderment the complicatedcombinations of machinery which crowded the central operating compartment. 

Fresh from a bath and shave and wearing a clean uniform, the Prussianshowed vast improvement in looks if not in equilibrium. But his mouthtwitched fitfully, his eyes wandered and disclosed a disquietingsuperabundance of white, and his tongue was noticeably thicker than before. 

"Well, my friend!" he said--"you are truly disappointing. The watch saidyou had made no sound since going below. I was afraid of another of thosefamous naps of yours. "

"With the prospect of a bottle with you? Impossible! I have been waitingand waiting, with my tongue hanging out. "

"Too bad. Why did you not look around, help yourself? Why not?" thelieutenant demanded. "Have I not given you freedom of ship? It is yours, everything here 'yours!"

"I want nothing but an end to this great thirst, " Lanyard protested. 

"Then--God in Heaven!--why we standing here? Come!"

Releasing the handrail the Prussian took careful aim for the alleyway door, launched himself toward it, slipped on the greasy metal grating, and wouldhave fallen heavily but for Lanyard. 

Cursing pettishly, he stood up, threw off Lanyard's arms without thanks, and made a new attempt, this time shooting headlong through the alleyway, to bring up against the wing table in the third forward compartment, thekitchen and messroom in one. 

"A great pity, " he muttered, opening a locker and fumbling in itsdepths--"rotten pity.... "

"What?"

"Keep you waiting so long. Not my fault. " The lieutenant brought forth twobottles of champagne and one of brandy. "You open them, Herr Doctor, like'good fellow, " he said, placing the three on the table. "I just wish you'understand no discourtesy meant ... Unavoidably detained ... Beastlycommander ... Drunk. Give 'my word, hopelessly drunk. Poor fool.... "

"If my judgment is sound, " Lanyard said, "this noble vessel will soon needa new commander. "

"True. Quite true. " The Prussian placed two aluminium cups upon the tableand half filled one with brandy, then brimmed it with champagne. "Trythat, " he said thickly, "That will keep your tail up, my friend. "

"Many thanks, " Lanyard protested, filling another cup with undilutedchampagne. "I prefer one thing at a time. "

"Unfortunate ... Don't know what is good ... King's peg ... Wonderfuldrink. No matter. To 'new commander--prosit!"

He drained his cup at a gulp. 

"To the new commander!" Lanyard echoed, and drank judiciously. "Excellent.... How long can he last, do you think, at this pace?"

"No telling--not long--too long for my liking. Shall I tell 'something?"He filled his cup again, half and half, and sat down, his wicked, rat-likeface more than ever pale and repulsive. "Not 'whisper of this, mind--thoughI think 'crew sometimes suspects: he's going mad!"

"Not that Bavarian?"

The lieutenant nodded wisely. "If 'knew him as I know him, 'never besurprised, my friend. You think too much drink. Yes, but not entirely. Hekeeps seeing things, hearing them, especially by night. "

"What sort of things?"

"Faces. " The Prussian licked his lips, glanced furtively over his shoulder, and drank. "Dead faces, eyes eaten out, seaweed in their hair.... Andvoices--he's forever hearing voices ... People trying to talk, 'can'tmake him understand because 'mouths 'full of water, you know. But theyunderstand one another, keep discussing how to get at him.... He tells meabout it ... I tell you, it is Hell to hear him talk ... Especially whensubmerged, as last night. Then he hears them fumbling all over the hullwith their stumpy fingers, trying to find 'way in, talking about him. Andhe tells me, and keeps insisting, till sometimes I seem to hear them, too. But I don't. Before God, I don't! You don't believe I do, do you?"

His eyes rolled wildly. 

"Why should you?"

"Just so: why should I?" The lieutenant's accents rose to a shrill pitch. "I have not his record ... Still in training when he sent _Lusitania_ tothe bottom. Yes: it was he, second-in-command, in charge of torpedo tubes. His own hand fired that torpedo.... "

He fell silent, staring moodily into his cup, perhaps thinking of thenumber of torpedoes it had been his own lot to discharge upon errands ofslaughter. 

And the dead silence of the ship was made audible by a stealthy drip-dripof water from the seams, and the furtive slaver of the tide on the outerplates. 

A shiver ran through the body of the Prussian. He pulled himself togetherwith obvious effort, looked up with an uncertain grin, and passed a shakinghand across his writhing lips. 

"All foolishness, of course, but 'gets on one's nerves ... Constantassociation with man like that.... 'Know what he's doing now, or was, whenI came away? Sitting up with doors and windows locked and blinds drawn, drinking brandy neat. He can't sleep by night if sober, or without 'lightin the room. If he does, he knows they will get him ... People he hearscrawling up from the sea, slopping round the house, mumbling, whimpering inthe dark--"

He broke off abruptly, with a whisper more dreadful than ashriek--"_God_!"--and jumped to his feet, whipping the automatic from hisbelt. 

A footfall sounded in one of the after compartments. Others followed. 

Someone was coming slowly down the alleyway, someone with dragging, heavyfeet. 

The lieutenant waited motionless, as one petrified with terror. 

The bulkhead doorway framed the figure of the commander. He paused there, louring at his subaltern with haunted eyes ablaze in a face like parchment. 

"So!" he said, nodding. "As I thought. It is thus I find you, fraternisingwith one who may be, for all we know, an enemy to the Fatherland. Youdrunken, babbling fool! Get ashore!" His angry foot thumped the grating. "Get ashore, and report yourself under arrest!"

With no more warning than a strangled snarl, the lieutenant shot himthrough the head. 

XI

UNDER THE ROSE

Vague stupefaction replaced the scowl upon the countenance of thecommander. He swayed, a hand faltering to his forehead, where dark bloodwas beginning to well from a cleanly drilled puncture. Then he collapsedcompletely, falling prone across the raised sill of the bulkhead opening. Aconvulsive tremor shook savagely his huge frame. 

Thereafter he was quite still. 

The report of that one shot had reverberated stunningly within those narrowwalls of steel. Momentarily Lanyard looked to see the alarmed anchor watchappear; so too, apparently, the lieutenant, who remained immobile, pistolpoised in a hand for the moment strangely steady, gaze fixed upon the mouthof the alleyway. 

But through a long minute no other sounds were audible than that ceaselessdripping from frames and seams, with that muted, terrible mouthing ofwaters on the plates. 

Unable either to fathom or forecast the workings of the drink-maddenedmentality masked by that rat-like face, Lanyard waited with a hand covertlygrasping the automatic in his pocket. There was no telling; at any momentthat murderous mania might veer his way. And he was not content to die, notyet, not in any event by the hand of a decadent little beast of a Boche. 

Slowly the arm of the lieutenant dropped, lowering the pistol till itsmuzzle chattered on the top of the table: a noise that broke the spell uponhis senses. He looked down in dull brutish wonder, then roused and with agesture of horror let the weapon fall clattering. 

His glance shifting to the body of his commander, he started violently, backing up against the plates to put all possible distance between himselfand his handiwork. His lips moved, framing phrases at first incoherent, presently articulate in part:

"... _done it at last!... Knew I must soon_.... "

Abruptly he looked up at Lanyard. 

"Bear witness, " he cried: "I was provoked beyond human endurance. Heinsulted me in your presence ... Me!... That scum!"

Lanyard said nothing, but met his gaze with a blank, non-committal stare, under which the eyes of the lieutenant wavered and fell. 

Then with a start he realised anew the significance of that still figure athis feet, and tried to shake some of the swagger back into his wretched, fear-racked being. 

"A good job!" he muttered defiantly. "And you will stand by me, I know.... Only there is nothing in that, of course, no justification possible beforea court martial. Even your testimony could not save me ... I am done for, utterly.... "

He hung his head. Lanyard heard whispered words: "_degraded, " "dishonour, ""firing squad_".... 

A chronometer in the central operating compartment tolled eight bells. 

With a sharp cry the lieutenant dropped to his knees. "He can't be dead!"he shrilled. "It is all play-acting, to frighten me!"

Frantically he sought to turn the body over. 

Lanyard's hand shot swiftly out, capturing the automatic on the table. Withrapid and sure gestures he extracted and pocketed the clip, drew back thebreech, ejecting into his palm the one shell in the barrel, and replacedthe weapon, all before the Prussian gave over his insane efforts toresurrect the dead. 

"He is dead enough, " he announced, eyeing Lanyard morosely--"beyondhelping.... Look here; are you with me or against me?"

"Need you ask?"

"I count on you, then. Good. I think we can cover this up. "

He checked and stood for a while lost in thought. 

"How?" Lanyard roused him. 

"Simply enough: I go on deck, send the watch ashore on some trumped-uperrand. They suspect nothing, thinking the commander and I have you incharge. If they heard that shot, I will say one of us dropped a bottleof champagne, and it exploded.... When they are gone, I bring the doryalongside; and with your help it should be an easy matter to carry thisbody up, weight it, row it out to the middle of the lagoon, dump itoverboard. Then we return. Our story is, the commander followed the anchorwatch ashore; if later he wandered off, got lost in the woods in hisalcoholic delirium, that is no affair of ours. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, " said Lanyard with a look of fatuous innocence. "But how aboutthe water--is it deep enough?"

The Prussian took no pains to dissemble his scorn of this question, seemingly so witless. "To cover the body? Why, even here there issufficient depth at low tide for us to submerge completely, barring theperiscopes. And it is deeper yet in the middle. "

"Thanks, " Lanyard replied meekly. 

"Have another drink? No?" The Prussian tossed off a half cupful ofundiluted brandy, and shuddered. "Then stop here. I'll be back in a--"

"Half a minute. " The lieutenant halted in the act of stepping across thebody. Lanyard levelled a hand at the automatic. "Do you mind taking thatwith you? I have no desire to be found here with it and a dead man, shouldanything prevent your return. "

With a sickly grimace the murderer snatched up the weapon, thrust it in itsholster, and hurriedly departed. 

Lanyard watched him pass through the alleyway and turn toward the companionladder, then followed quietly. 

As the lieutenant climbed out on deck, Lanyard ascended to the conningtower and waited there, listening. He could not quite make out what wassaid; but after a few brusque words of command two pair of boots rang onthe gangplank and thumped away down the stage. At the same time Lanyard lethimself noiselessly out through the hatch. 

As soon as his vision grew reconciled to the change from light to darkness, he discovered the slender figure of the lieutenant skulking on tip-toeafter the retreating anchor watch; about midway on the landing stage, however, he paused and bent over one of the piles, apparently fumbling withthe painter of a small boat moored in the black shadows below. 

At this Lanyard began to move along the deck, one by one working themooring lines clear of their cleats and dropping them gently overboard, till but two were left to hold the U-boat in place. 

Throughout he kept watch upon the manoeuvres of the lieutenant--saw himdrop over the side of the stage, heard a thump of feet as he landed in aboat, and a subsequent creak of oar-locks. 

The small boat was rounding the bows of the submarine when the adventurerducked back through conning tower to hold. 

He was standing where he had been left when the lieutenant came below. 

"It's all right, " this last announced with shabby bravado as he steppedover the body in the doorway. "We are rid of that damned watch for a time. They won't return within half an hour at least. I have the dory mooredamidships. If we are lively, this dirty job will be over in no time atall. "

Lanyard nodded. "I am ready. "

"No need to hurry--plenty of time for one more drink. " The Prussiansplashed brandy into the cup, filling it to the brim. "And God knows I needit!"

Lanyard watched critically as, with head well back, he drained thatstaggering dose of raw spirit gulp by gulp without once removing the cupfrom his lips. No mortal man could drink like that and stand up under it:it was now a mere question of time.... 

Hardly that: the hand of the murderer shook and wavered widely as he putdown the cup. For a moment he swayed with eyes fixed and glazing, featuresvisibly losing plasticity, then lurched forward, knocking the brandy bottleto the floor, swung around a full half turn in blind effort to re-establishequilibrium, fell backward upon the table, and lay racked from head to footwith savage spasms, hands clawing empty air, chest labouring vainly to winsufficient oxygen to combat the poison with which his system was saturated. 

Moving to his side, Lanyard laid a hand upon the left breast. The man'sheart was hammering his ribs with agonizing blows, at first rapid, bydegrees more slow and feeble. 

No power on earth could save him now: he had committed suicide as surely asmurder. 

Wasting not another glance or thought upon him Lanyard hurried aft to thecentral operating room. 

The time he had spent there, an hour earlier, was by no means lost inpurposeless marvelling. He boasted a certain aptitude for mechanics, perhaps legitimately inherited from that obscure origin of his, largelyfostered by the requirements of his craft; into the bargain, he had beenprivileged ere now to gain some slight insight into the principles ofsubmersible operation. If obliged to work swiftly and in some instancesupon the advice of intuition rather than practical knowledge, he went notunintelligently about his task, made few false moves. 

Turning first to the diving controls, he adjusted the hydroplanes to theirextreme downward inclination, then made the rounds of the vent valves, opening all wide. With a sharp hissing and whistling the air from theauxiliary tanks was driven inboard, and as Lanyard manipulated the wheelsoperating the forward and aft groups of Kingston valves, to the hissing wasadded the suck and gurgle of water flooding the main and auxiliary ballastand adjusting tanks. 

Immediately the U-boat began to sink. Lanyard delayed only to close theswitches which controlled the electric motors. As their drone gained volumehe grasped the rifle and swarmed up the companion-ladder, passing throughthe conning tower to deck with little or nothing to spare--with, in fact, barely time to throw off the two mooring lines and jump into the small boatbefore water, sweeping hungrily up over deck and bridge, began to cascadethrough conning tower and torpedo hatchways. 

Constrained to cut the painter lest the dory be drawn down with thefast-sinking submarine, he fitted oars to locks and put his back to them, swinging the small boat hastily clear of whirlpools which formed as thewaves closed over the spot where the U-boat had rested. 

From first to last less than five minutes' activity had been needed forthe task of scotching this water-moccasin of the salt seas and putting itskeepers at the mercy of the country whose hospitality they had too longabused. 

Well content, after a little, Lanyard lay on his oars and contemplated withmuch interest what the night permitted to be visible: the landing stage, nomore than a dark, vague mass in the darkness; the land picked out with butfew lights, mainly at windows of the base buildings, painting dim ribbonsupon the polished floor of the lagoon. 

Methodically these were eclipsed as a moving figure passed before them. 

Listening intently, Lanyard could distinguish the slow footfalls of anunsuspecting sentry--no other sounds, more than gentle voices of the night:murmurs of blind wavelets, the plaintive whisper of a little breeze belatedamid the tree-tops of that dark forest, and a slow, weary soughing ofswells upon the distant ocean shore. 

Perceiving as yet not the slightest indication of an alarm ashore, Lanyardventured to continue rowing, but with utmost caution, lifting and dippinghis blades as gingerly as though they were fashioned of brittle glass, andfor want of a better guide keeping the stern of the dory square to theshank of the T-stage. 

In time the bows grounded lightly on sand. The melancholy voice of the seanow seemed a heavier sighing in the stillness. He pushed off and rowed onparallel with a dark shore line, so close in that his starboard oar touchedbottom at each stroke. 

At intervals he paused and rested, striving vainly to garner some clue tohis bearings. Inexorably the blackness forbade that. He might have failedere dawn to grope a way out of that trap had not the disappearance of thesubmarine been discovered within the hour. 

A sudden clamour rose in the quarter of the landing stage, first one greatshout of dismay, then two voices bellowing together, then others. Severalrifle-shots were fired in the air. More lights broke out in windows ashore. Many feet drummed resoundingly upon the stage, and the confusion of voicesattained a pitch of wild, hysteric uproar. Of a sudden a flare was lightedand tossed far out upon the bosom of the lagoon. 

Surprised by that sharp and merciless blue glare, Lanyard instinctivelyshipped oars and picked up the rifle. He could see so clearly thathuddle of figures upon the head of the landing stage that he confidentlyapprehended being fired upon at any moment; but minutes lengthened andhe was not. Either the Germans were looking for bigger game than a doryadrift, or the dazzling flare hindered more than aided their vision. 

At length persuaded that he had not been detected, Lanyard put aside therifle and resumed the oars. Now his course was made beautifully clear tohim: the blue light showed him that outlet to the sea which he soughtwithin a hundred yards' distance. 

Presently the flare began to wane. It was not renewed. Altogether unseen, unsuspected, Lanyard swung the dory into the breach, and drove it seawardwith all his might. 

Swiftly the lagoon was shut out by narrow closing banks. The blue glaredied out behind a black profile of rounded dunes. Lanyard turned the boweastward, rowing broadside to the shore. 

After something more than an hour of this mode of progress, he struck intoward the beach, disembarked in ankle-deep waters, slung the rifle overhis shoulder by its strap and, pushing the dory off, abandoned it to thewhim of the sea. 

Then again he set his face to the east, following the contour of the beachjust within the wash of the tide: thereby making sure that there shouldbe no trail of footprints in the sand to guide a possible pursuit in themorning. 

The rising sun found him purposefully splashing on, weary but enheartenedby the discovery that he had left behind the more thickly wooded section ofthe island. 

Presently, turning in to the dry beach for the first time, he climbedto the summit of a dune somewhat higher than its fellows, and tookobservations, finding that he had come near to the eastern extremity of theisland. 

At some distance to his right a wagon road, faintly rutted in sand andovergrown with beach grass, struck inland. 

Following this at a venture, he came, at about eight o'clock, upon theoutskirts of a waterside community. 

Before proceeding he hid the magazine rifle in a thicket, then made a widedetour, and picked up a roadway which entered the village from the north. 

If his disreputable appearance was calculated to excite comment, readinessin disbursing money to remedy such shortcomings made amends for Lanyard'staciturnity. Within two hours, shaved, bathed, and inconspicuously dressedin a cheap suit of ready-made clothing, he was breakfasting famously uponthe plain fare of a commercial tavern. 

The town, he learned, was the one-time important whaling port of Edgartown. He would be able to leave for the mainland on a ferry steamer sailing earlyin the afternoon. 

Ten minutes before going abroad he filed a long telegram in code addressedto the head of the British Secret Service in New York.... 

Consequences manifold and various ensued. 

When the telegram had been delivered and decoded--both transactions beingmarked by reasonable promptitude--the head of the British Secret Servicein New York called the British Embassy in Washington on the long distancetelephone. 

Shortly thereafter an attaché of the British Embassy jumped into amotor-car and had himself driven to one of the cardinal departments of theFederal Government. 

When he had kicked his heels in an antechamber upward of an hour, he wasreceived, affably enough, by the head of the department, a smug, open-facedgentleman whose mood was largely preoccupied with illusions of grandeur, who was, in short, interested far more in considering how splendid it wasto be himself than in hearing about any mare's-nest of a German U-boat baseon the south shore of Martha's Vineyard. 

He was, however, indulgent enough to promise to give the matter hisdistinguished consideration in due course. 

He even went so far as to have his secretary make a note of what allegedinformation this young Englishman had to impart. 

During the night he chanced to wake up and recall the matter, and concludedthat, all things considered, it would do no harm to give the United StatesNavy a little amusement and exercise, even if it should turn out that therumour of this submarine base was a canard. 

So, the next morning, he went to his desk some time before noon, and issueda lot of orders. One of them had to do with the necessity for absolutesecrecy. 

During the day several minor officials of the department might have been, and indeed were, observed going about their business with painfullytight-lipped expressions. 

Also many messages were transmitted by wireless, telephone, and telegraph, to various persons charged with the defense of the Atlantic Coast; some ofthese were code messages, some were not. 

That same night a great forest fire sprang up on the south shore ofMartha's Vineyard, both preceded and accompanied by a series of heavyexplosions. 

The first United States vessel to reach the lagoon found only charredremains of a landing stage and several buildings and, at the bottom of thelagoon, an incoherent mass of wreckage, a twisted and shattered chaos ofsteel plates and framework that might possibly have been a perfectly soundsubmarine, though sunken, had somebody not been warned in ample timeto permit its destruction through the agency of trinitrotoluene, thatenormously efficient modern explosive nicknamed by British military andnaval experts "T. N. T. , " and by the Germans "Trotyl. "

XII

RESURRECTION

The early editions of those New York evening newspapers which Lanyardpurchased in Providence, when he changed trains there en route from NewBedford to New York, carried multi-column and most picturesque accounts ofthe _Assyrian_ disaster. 

But the whole truth was in none. 

Lanyard laid aside the last paper privately satisfied that, for no-doubtpraiseworthy reasons of its own, Washington had seen fit to dictate thesuppression of a number of extremely pertinent circumstances and factswhich could hardly have escaped governmental knowledge. 

Already, one inferred, a sort of censorship was at work, an effective ifcomparatively modest precursor to that noble volunteer committee which waspresently with touching spontaneity to fasten itself upon an astonishedShip of State before it could gather enough way to escape such cirripedeattachments. 

Presumably it was not thought wise to disconcert a great people, in thecomplacence of its awakening to the fact that it was remotely at war withthe Hun, with information that a Boche submersible was, or of late hadbeen, operating in the neighbourhood of Nantucket. 

Unanimously the sinking of the _Assyrian_ was ascribed to an internalexplosion of unknown origin. No paper hinted that German secret agentsmight possibly have figured incogniti among her passengers. There wasmention neither of the flare which had burned on her after deck to makethe _Assyrian_ a conspicuous target in the night, nor of any of the otheruntoward events which had led up to the explosion. Nothing whateverwas said of the shot fired at the submerging U-boat by a United Statestorpedo-boat destroyer speeding to the rescue. 

Still, the bare facts alone were sufficiently appalling. Reading what hadbeen permitted to gain publication, Lanyard experienced a qualm of horrortogether with the thought that, even had he drowned as he had expected todrown, such a fate had almost been preferable to participation in thoseawful ten minutes precipitated by that pale messenger of death which had sonarrowly missed Lanyard himself as he rested on the bosom of the sea. 

Within ten minutes after receiving her coup de grâce the _Assyrian_ hadgone under; barely that much time had been permitted a passenger list ofseventy-two and a personnel of nearly three hundred souls in which to rousefrom dreams of security and take to the lifeboats. 

Thanks to the frenzied haste compelled by the swift settling of the ship, more than one boat had been capsized. Others had been sunk--literallydriven under--by masses of humanity cascading into them from slantingdecks. Others, again, had never been launched at all. 

The utmost efforts of the destroyer, fortuitously so near at hand, hadserved to rescue but thirty-one passengers and one hundred and eighty ofthe crew. 

In the list of survivors Lanyard found these names:

 Becker, Julius--New York Brooke, Cecelia--London Crane, Robert T. --New York Dressier, Emil--Geneva O'Reilly, Edmund--Detroit Putnam, Bartlett--Philadelphia Velasco, Arturo--Buenos Aires

Among the injured, Lieutenant Lionel Thackeray, D. S. O. , was listed assuffering from concussion of the brain, said to have been contractedthrough a fall while attempting to aid the launching of a lifeboat. 

In the long roster of the drowned these names appeared:

 Bartholomew, Archer--London Duchemin, André--Paris Von Harden, Baron Gustav--Amsterdam Osborne, Captain E. W. --London

Of all the officers, Mr. Sherry was a solitary survivor, fished out of thesea after going down with his ship. 

No list boasted the name "Karl. "

Lacking accommodations for the rescued, it was stated, the destroyer hadsummoned by wireless the east-bound freight steamship _Saratoga_, which hadtrans-shipped the unfortunates and turned back to New York.... 

Throughout the best part of that journey from Providence to New YorkLanyard sat blankly staring into the black mirror of the window besidehis chair, revolving schemes for his immediate future in the light ofinformation derived, indirectly as much as directly, from these newspaperstories. 

Retrospective consideration of that voyage left little room for doubt thatthe designs of the German agents had been thoughtfully matured. They hadbeen quiet enough between their first stroke in the dark and their last, between the burglary of Cecelia Brooke's stateroom the first night out andthose murderous attacks on Bartholomew and Thackeray. Unquestionably, had they bided their time pending that hour when, according to theirinformation, the submersible would be off Nantucket, awaiting their signalto sink the _Assyrian_--a signal which would never have been given hadtheir plans proved successful, had they not made the ship too hot to holdthem, and finally had they not made every provision for their own escapewhen the ship went down. 

Lanyard was confident that all of their company had been warned to holdthemselves ready, and consequently had come off scot free--all, that is, save that victim of treachery, the unhappy Baron von Harden. 

If the number of that group which Lanyard had selected as comprising amajority of his enemies, those nine who had discussed the Lone Wolf in thesmoking room, was now reduced to five--Becker, Dressier, O'Reilly, Putnam, and Velasco--or four, eliminating Putnam, of whose loyalty there could beno question--Lanyard still had no means of knowing how many confederatesamong the other passengers these four might not have had. 

And even four men who appreciated what peril to their plans inhered in theLone Wolf, even four made a ponderable array of desperate enemies to haveat large in New York, apt to be encountered at any corner, apt at any timeto espy and recognise him without his knowledge. 

This situation imposed upon him two major tasks of immediate moment: hemust hunt down those four one by one and either satisfy himself as to theirinnocence of harmful intent or put them permanently _hors de combat_; andhe must extinguish utterly, once and for all time, that amiable personalitywhose brief span had been restricted to the decks of the _Assyrian_, Monsieur André Duchemin. 

That one must be buried deep, beyond all peradventure of involuntaryresurrection. 

Fortunately the last step toward the positive metamorphosis indicated hadbeen taken that very morning, when the Gallic beard of Monsieur Ducheminwas erased by the razor of a New England barber, whose shears had likewiseeradicated every trace of a Continental mode of hair-dressing. Thereremained about Lanyard little to remind of André Duchemin but his eyes; andthe look of one's eyes, as every good actor knows, is something far moreeasy to disguise than is commonly believed. 

But it was hardly in human nature not to mourn the untimely demise of souseful a body, one who carried such beautiful credentials and serviceableletters of introduction, whose character boasted so much charm with asolitary fault--too facile vulnerability to the prying eyes of those towhom Paris meant those days and social strata in which Michael Lanyardhad moved and had his being. Witness--according to Crane--the demoniaccleverness of the Brazilian in unmasking the Duchemin incognito. 

Suspicion was taking form in Lanyard's reflections that he had paid fartoo little attention to Señor Arturo Velasco of Buenos Aires, whoseavowed avocation of amateur criminologist might easily be synonymous withinterests much less innocuous. 

Or why had Velasco been so quick to communicate recognition of Lanyard toan employee of the United States Secret Service?

For that matter, why had he felt called so publicly to descant upon thenatural history of the Lone Wolf? In order to focus upon that one theattentions of his enemies? Or to put him on guard?

It was altogether perplexing. Was one to esteem Velasco friend or foe?

Lanyard could comfort himself only with the promise he should one day know, and that without undue delay. 

Alighting in Grand Central Terminus late at night, he made his way toForty-second Street and there, in the staring headlines of a "Late Extra, "read the news that the steamship _Saratoga_ had suffered a cripplingengine-room accident and was limping slowly toward port, still somethinglike eighteen hours out. 

Wondering if it were presumption to construe this as an omen that the starsin their courses fought for him, Lanyard went west to Broadway afoot, allthe way beset with a sense of incredulity; it was difficult to believe thathe was himself, alive and at large in this city of wonder and space, wherepeople moved at leisure and without fear on broad streets that resembleddeep-bitten channels for rivers of light. He was all too wont with nightsof dread and trembling, with the mediaeval gloom that enwrapped the citiesof Europe by night, their grim black streets desolate but for a few, infrequent, scurrying shapes of fright.... While here the very beggarswalked with heads unbowed, and men and women of happier estate laughed andplayed and made love lightly in the scampering taxis that whisked themhomeward from restaurants of the feverish midnight. 

A people at war, actually at grips with the Blond Beast, arrayed todefend itself and all humanity against conquest by that loathsome incubusincarnate, a people heedless, carefree, irresponsible, refusing to creditits peril.... 

Here and there a recruiting poster, down the broad reaches of Fifth Avenuea display of bunting, no other hint of war-time spirit and gravity.... 

Longacre Square, a weltering lake of kaleidoscopic radiance, even at thislate hour thronged with carnival crowds, not one note of sobriety in thenight.... 

Lanyard lifted a wondering gaze to the livid sky whose far, clear starswere paled and shamed by the up-flung glare, like eyes of innocence peeringdown into a pit of hell. 

Inscrutable!

Yet one could hardly be numb to the subtle, heady intoxication of thosecool, immaculate, sea-sweet airs which swept the streets, instillingself-confidence and lightness of spirit even in heads shadowed with the woeof war-worn Europe. 

Lanyard had not crossed the Avenue before he found himself walking with abrisker stride, holding his own head high.... 

On impulse, despite the lateness of the hour, albeit with misgivingsjustified in the issue, he hailed a taxicab and had himself driven to theheadquarters of the British Secret Service in America, an unostentatiousdwelling on the northwest corner of West End Avenue at Ninety-fifth Street. 

Here a civil footman answered the door and Lanyard's enquiries with theinformation that Colonel Stanistreet had unexpectedly been called outof town and would not return before evening of the next day, while hissecretary, Mr. Blensop, had gone to a play and might not come home till allhours. 

More impatient than disappointed, Lanyard climbed back into his cab, and inconsequence of consultation with its friendly minded chauffeur, eventuallyput up for the night in an Eighth Avenue hotel of the class that madeSenator Raines famous, a hostelry brazenly proclaiming accommodations "forgentlemen only, " whereas it offered entertainment for both man and beastand catered rather more to beast than to man. 

However, it served; it was inconspicuous and made no demands upon a shabbytraveller sans luggage, more than payment in advance. 

Early abroad, Lanyard breakfasted with attention fixed to the advertisingcolumns of the _Herald_, and by mid-morning was established as sub-tenantof a furnished bachelor apartment on Fifty-eighth Street near SeventhAvenue, a tiny nest of few rooms on the street level, with entrances fromboth the general lobby and the street direct: an admirable arrangement forone who might choose to come and go without supervision or challenge. 

Lacking local references as to his character, Lanyard was obliged to paythree months' rent in advance in addition to making a substantial depositto cover possible damage to the furnishings. 

His name, a spur-of-the-moment selection, was recorded in the lease asAnthony Ember. 

At noon he brought to his lodgings two trunks salvaged from a storagewarehouse wherein they had been deposited more than three years since, onthe eve of his flight with his family from America, an affair of haste andsecrecy forbidding the handicap of heavy impedimenta. 

Thus Lanyard became once more possessor of a tolerably comprehensivewardrobe. 

But, those trunks released more than his personal belongings; intermingledwere possessions that had been his wife's and his boy's. As he unpacked, memories peopled those perfunctorily luxurious lodgings of the transientwith melancholy ghosts as sweet and sad as lavender and rue. 

For hours on end the man sat idle, head bowed down, hands pluckingaimlessly at small broidered garments. 

And if in the sweep and turmoil of late events he seemed to have forgottenfor a little that feud which had brought him overseas, he roused from thisbrief interlude of saddened dreaming with the iron of deadly purpose newlyentered into his soul, and in his heart one dominant thought, that now hishour with Ekstrom could not, must not, be long deferred. 

In the street there rose an uproar of inhuman bawling. Lanyard went to theprivate door, hailed one of the husky authors of the din, an itinerantnews-vendor, and disbursed a nickel coin for one cent's worth of spushuluxtry and four cents' worth of howling impudence. 

He found no more of interest in the newspaper than the information that the_Saratoga_ had been sighted off Fire Island and was expected to dock in NewYork not later than eight o'clock that night. 

This, however, was acceptable reading. Lanyard had work to do which werebetter done before "Karl" and his crew found opportunity to communicatedirectly with their collaborators ashore, work which it were unwiseto initiate before nightfall lent a cloak of shadows to hoodwink theever-possible adventitious German spy. 

Nor was he so fatuous as to fancy it would profit him to call before nineo'clock at the house on West End Avenue. No earlier might he hope to findColonel the Honourable George Fleetwood-Stanistreet near the end of hisdinner, and so in a mood approachable and receptive. 

But there could be no harm in reconnaissance by daylight. 

He whiled away the latter part of the afternoon in taxicabs, by dint offrequent changes contriving in the most casual fashion imaginable to passthe Seventy-ninth Street branch of the Wilhelmstrasse no less than fourtimes. 

Little rewarded these tactics other than a fairly accurate mentalphotograph of the building and its situation--and a growing suspicion thatthe United States Government had profited nothing by England's lessonsof early war days in respect of the one way to cope with resident enemyaliens. 

The house stood upon a corner, occupying half of an avenue block--thenorthern half of which was the site of a towering apartment house incourse of construction--and loomed over its lesser neighbours a monumentalmonstrosity of architecture, as formidable as a fortress, its lower tiersof windows barred with iron, substantial iron grilles ready to bar itsmain entrance, even heavier gates guarding the carriage court in theside street. In all a stronghold not easy for the most accomplishedhouse-breaker to force; yet the heart of it was Lanyard's goal; for there, he believed, Ekstrom (under whatever _nom de guerre_) lay hidden, or if notEkstrom, at least a clear lead to his whereabouts. 

Certainly that one could not be far from the powerful wireless stationsecretly maintained on the roof of this weird jumble of architecturalperiods, its aërials cunningly hidden in the crowning atrocity of itsminaret: a station reputedly so powerful that it could receive Berlin'snightly outgivings of news and orders, and, in emergency, transmit them toother secret stations in Cuba, Mexico, and Venezuela. 

Yet the shrewdest scrutiny of eyes trained to detect police agents atsight, however well disguised, failed to espy one sign of any sort ofespionage upon this nest of rattlesnakes. 

Apparently its tenants came and went as they willed, untroubled by andcontemptuous of governmental surveillance. 

A handsome limousine car pulled up at its carriage block as Lanyard droveby, one time, and a pretty woman, exquisitely gowned, alighted and waswelcomed by hospitable front doors that opened before she could ring: awoman Lanyard knew as one of the most daring, diabolically clever, andunscrupulous creatures of the Wilhelmstrasse, one whose life would not havebeen worth an hour's purchase had she ventured to show herself in Paris, London, or Petrograd at any time since the outbreak of the war. 

He drove on, deep in amaze. 

Indications were not wanting, on the other hand, that enemy spiesmaintained close watch upon the movements of those who frequented the houseon West End Avenue. A German agent whom Lanyard knew by sight was strollingby as his taxi rounded its corner and swung on down toward Riverside Drive. 

This more modest residence possessed a brick-walled garden at the back, onthe Ninety-fifth Street side. And if the top of the wall was crusted withbroken glass in a fashion truly British, it had a door, and the door alock. And Lanyard made a note thereon. 

And when he went home to dress for dinner, he opened up the false bottomof one of his trunks and selected from a store of cloth-wrapped bundlestherein one which contained a small bunch of innocent-looking keys whosetrue _raison d'être_ was anything in the world but guileless. 

Later he did himself very well at Delmonico's, enjoying for the first timein many years a well-balanced dinner faultlessly cooked and served amidquiet surroundings that carried memory back half a decade to the Paris thatwas, the Paris that nevermore will be.... 

At nine precisely he paid off a taxicab at the corner of Ninety-fifthStreet. 

While waiting on the doorstep of the corner house, he raked the streetright and left with searching glances, and was somewhat reassured. Apparently he called at an hour when the Boche pickets were off duty; atthe moment there was no pedestrian visible within a block's distanceon either hand, nobody that he could see skulked in the areas of theold-fashioned brownstone houses across the way. 

The neighbourhood was, indeed, quiet even for an upper West Sideresidential quarter. A block over to the east Broadway was strident in theflood of its nocturnal traffic; a like distance to the west Riverside Drivehummed with pleasure cars taking advantage of the first bland night of thatbelated spring. But here, now that the taxi had wheeled away, there wasnever a car in sight, nor even a strolling brace of sidewalk lovers. 

The door opened, revealing the same footman. 

"Colonel Stanistreet? I will see, sir. "

Lanyard entered. 

"If you will be kind enough to be seated, " the footman suggested, indicating a small waiting room. "And what name shall I say?"

It had been Lanyard's intention to have himself announced simply as theauthor of that telegram from Edgartown. Obscure impulse made him change hismind, some premonition so tenuous as to defy analysis. 

"Mr. Anthony Ember. "

"Thank you, sir. "

After a little the footman returned. 

"If you will come this way, sir.... "

He led toward the back of the house, introducing Lanyard to a spaciousapartment, a library uncommonly well furnished, rather more thancomfortably yet without a trace of ostentation in its complete luxury, awarm room, a room intimately lived in, a room, in short, characteristicallyBritish in atmosphere. 

Waist-high bookcases lined the walls, broken on the right by a cheerfulfireplace with a grate of glowing cannel coal, in front of it a great clublounge upholstered, like all the chairs, in well-used leather. Opposite thechimney-piece, a handsome thing in carved oak, a door was draped with acurtain that swung with it. In the back of the room two long and wideFrench windows stood open to the night, beyond them that garden whosewall had attracted Lanyard's attention. There were a number of paintings, portraits for the most part, heavily framed, with overhead picture-lights. In the middle of the room was a table-desk, broad and long, supporting ashaded reading lamp. On the far side of the table a young man sat writing, with several dockets of papers arranged before him. 

As Lanyard entered, this one put down his pen, pushed back his chair, andcame round the table: a tallish, well-made young man, dressed a shade toofoppishly in spite of an unceremonious dinner coat, his manner assured, amiable, unconstrained, perhaps a little over-tolerant. 

"Mr. Ember, I believe?" he said in a voice studiously musical. 

"Yes, " Lanyard replied, vaguely annoyed with himself because of anunreasoning resentment of this musical quality. "Mr. Blensop?"

"I am Mr. Blensop, " that one admitted gracefully. "And how may I have thepleasure of being of service?"

He waved a hand toward an easy chair beside the table, and resumed his own. But Lanyard hesitated. 

"I wished to see Colonel Stanistreet. "

Mr. Blensop looked up with an indulgent smile. His face was round andsmooth but for a perfectly docile little moustache, his lips full and red, his nose delicately chiselled; but his eyes, though large, were set cannilyclose together. 

"Colonel Stanistreet is unfortunately not at home. I am his secretary. "

"Yes, " said Lanyard, still standing. "In that case I'd be glad if you wouldbe good enough to make an appointment for me with Colonel Stanistreet. "

"I am afraid he will not be home till very late to-night, but--"

"Then to-morrow?"

Mr. Blensop smiled patiently. "Colonel Stanistreet is a very busy man, " heuttered melodiously. "If you could let me know something about the natureof your business.... "

"It is the King's, " said Lanyard bluntly. 

The secretary went so far as to betray well-bred surprise. "You are anEnglishman, Mr. Ember?"

"Yes. "

And for all he knew to the contrary, so Lanyard was. 

"I am Colonel Stanistreet's secretary, " the young man again suggestedhopefully. 

"That is precisely why I ask you to make an appointment for me with youremployer, " Lanyard retorted politely. 

"You won't say what you wish to see him about?"

A trace of asperity marred the music of those tones; Mr. Blensop furtherindicated distaste of the innuendo inherent in Lanyard's use of the word"employer" by delicately wrinkling his nose. 

"I am sorry, " Lanyard replied sufficiently. 

The door behind him opened, and the footman intruded. 

"Beg pardon, Mr. Blensop.... "

"Yes, Walker?"

The servant advanced to the table and proffered a visiting card on a tray. Mr. Blensop took it, arched pencilled brows over it. 

"To see me, Walker?"

"The gentleman asked for Colonel Stanistreet, sir. "

"H'm.... You may show him in when I ring. "

The footman retired. Mr. Blensop looked up brightly, bending the card withnervous fingers. 

"You were saying your business was... ?"

"I was not, " Lanyard replied with disarming good humour. "I'm afraid thatis something much too important and confidential to reveal even to ColonelStanistreet's secretary, if you don't mind my saying so. "

Mr. Blensop did mind, and betrayed vexation with an impatient littlegesture which caused the card to fly from his fingers and fall faceuppermost on the table. Almost instantly he recovered it, but not beforeLanyard had read the name it bore. 

"Of course not, " said the secretary pleasantly, rising. "But you understandmy instructions are rigid ... I'm sorry. "

"You refuse me the appointment?"

"Unless you can give me an inkling of your business--or perhaps bring aletter of introduction. "

"I can do neither, Mr. Blensop, " said Lanyard earnestly. "I haveinformation of the gravest moment to communicate to the head of the BritishSecret Service in this country. "

The secretary looked startled. "What makes you think Colonel Stanistreet isconnected with the British Secret Service?"

"I don't think so; I know it. "

After a moment of hesitation Mr. Blensop yielded graciously. "If you cancome back at nine to-morrow morning, Mr. Ember, I'll do my best to persuadeColonel Stanistreet--"

"I repeat, my business is of the most pressing nature. Can't you arrangefor me to see your employer to-night?"

"It is utterly impossible. "

Lanyard accepted defeat with a bow. 

"To-morrow at nine, then, " he said, turning toward the door by which he hadentered. 

"At nine, " said Mr. Blensop, generous in triumph. "But do you mind goingout this way?"

He moved toward the curtained door opposite the chimney-piece. Lanyardpaused, shrugged, and followed. Mr. Blensop opened the door, disclosing avista of Ninety-fifth Street. 

"Thank _you_, Mr. Ember. _Good_-night, " he intoned. 

The door closed with the click of a spring latch. 

Lanyard stood alone in the street, looking swiftly this way and that, hishand closing upon that little bunch of keys in his pocket, his humourlawless. 

For the name inscribed on that card which Mr. Blensop had so carelesslydropped was one to fill Lanyard with consuming anxiety for betteracquaintance with its present wearer. 

Written in pencil, with all the individual angularity of Frenchchirography, the name was André Duchemin. 

XIII

REINCARNATION

It took a little time and patience but, on his third essay, Lanyard founda key which agreed with the lock. He permitted himself a sigh of relief;Ninety-fifth Street was bare, the door set flush with the outside of thewall afforded no concealment to the trespasser, while the direct light of astreet lamp at the corner made his lonely figure uncomfortably conspicuous. 

Apparently, however, he had not been observed. 

Gently pushing the door open, he slipped in, as gently closed it, then fora full minute stood stirless, spying out the lay of the land. 

Fitting precisely his anticipations, the garden discovered a fine Englishflavour; it was well-kept, modest, fragrant and, best of all, quite dark, especially so in the shadow of the street wall. Only a glimmer of starlightenabled him to pick out the course of a pebbled footpath. A border of deepturf between this and the wall muffled his footsteps as he moved toward theback of the house. 

The library windows, deeply recessed, opened on a low, broad stoop ofconcrete, with a pergola effect above, and a few wicker pieces upon a grassmat underfoot. 

Noiselessly Lanyard stepped across the low sill and paused in the cover ofheavy draperies, commanding a tolerably full view of the library if onesomewhat unsatisfactory, since the light within was by no means bright. Still, this circumstance had its advantages for him; with his dark topcoatbuttoned to the throat and its collar turned up to hide his linen, he wasconfident he would not be detected unless he gave his presence away by anabrupt movement--something which the Lone Wolf never made. 

At the moment Mr. Blensop seemed to be engaged in the surprising occupationof discoursing upon art to his caller. 

The latter occupied that chair which Lanyard had refused, on the far sideof the table. Thus placed, the lamplight masked more than revealed him, throwing a dull glare into Lanyard's eyes. His man sat in a pose of earnestattention, bending forward a trifle to follow the exposition of Mr. Blensop, who stood beneath a portrait on the wall between the chimney-pieceand the windows, his attitude incurably graceful, a hand on the switchcontrolling the picture-light. Apparently he had just finished speaking, for he paused, looking toward his guest with a quiet and intimate smile ashe turned off the light. 

"And that's all there is to it, " he declared, moving back to the table. 

"I see, " said the other thoughtfully. 

Lanyard felt himself start almost uncontrollably: rage swept through him, storming brain and body, like a black squall over a hill-bound lake. Forthe moment he could neither see or hear clearly nor think coherently. 

For the voice of this latest incarnation of André Duchemin was the voice of"Karl. "

When the tumult of his senses subsided he heard Blensop saying, "I'llwrite it out for you, " and saw him pick up a pad and pencil and jot down amemorandum. 

"There you are, " he added, ripping off the sheet and passing it across thetable. "Now you can't go wrong. "

"I precious seldom do, " his caller commented drily. 

"I think--" Blensop began, and checked sharply as the man Walker came intothe room. 

"Beg pardon, Mr. Blensop--"

There was an accent of impatience in those beautifully modulated tones:"Well, what is it now?"

"A lady to see you, sir. "

Blensop took the card from the proffered salver. "Never heard of her, " heannounced brusquely at a glance. "She asked for Colonel Stanistreet or forme?"

"Colonel Stanistreet, sir. But when I said he was not at home, she asked tosee his secretary. "

"Any idea what she wants?"

"She didn't say, sir--but she seemed much distressed. "

"They always are. H'm.... Young and good-looking?"

"Quite, sir. "

"Dessay I may as well see her, " said Mr. Blensop wearily. "Show her in whenI ring. "

Walker shut himself out of the room. 

"It's just as well, " Blensop added to his caller. "You understand, my clearfellow--?"

"Assuredly. " The man got up; but Blensop contrived exasperatingly to keepbetween him and the windows. "I'm to be back at midnight?"

"Twelve sharp; you'll be sure to find him here then. Mind leaving by thisemergency exit?"

"Not in the least. "

"Then _good_-night, my dear Monsieur Duchemin!"

Was there a hint of irony in Blensop's employment of that style? Lanyardhalf fancied there was, but did not linger to analyse the impression. Already the secretary had opened the side door. 

In a bound Lanyard cleared the stoop, then ran back to the door in thewall. But with all his quickness he was all too slow; already, as heemerged to Ninety-fifth Street, his quarry was rounding the Avenue corner. 

Defiant of discretion, Lanyard gave chase at speed but, though he had notthirty yards to cover, again was baffled by the swiftness with which "Karl"got about. 

He had still some distance to go when the peace of the quarter wasshattered by a door that slammed like a pistol shot, and with roaringmotor and grinding gears a cab swung away from the curb in front of theStanistreet residence and tore off down the Avenue. 

Swearing petulantly in his disappointment, Lanyard pulled up on the corner. The number on the license plate was plainly revealed as the vehicle showedits back to the street lamp. But what good was that to him? He memorisedit mechanically, in mutinous appreciation of the fact that the taxi wassetting a pace with which he could not hope to compete afoot. 

The rumble of another motor-car caught his ear, and he looked roundeagerly. A second taxicab--undoubtedly that which had brought the youngwoman now presumably closeted with Mr. Blensop--was moving up into theplace vacated by the first. 

In two strides Lanyard was at its side. 

"Follow that taxi!" he cried--"number seventy-six, three-eighty-five. Don'tlose sight of it, but don't pass it--don't let them know we're following!"

"Engaged, " the driver growled. 

"Hang your engagement! Here"--Lanyard pressed a golden eagle into thefellow's palm--"there will be another of those if you do as I say!"

"Le's go!" the driver agreed with resignation. 

If the cab was moving before Lanyard could hop in and shut the door, theother had already established a killing lead; and though Lanyard's mandemonstrated characteristic contempt for municipal regulations governingthe speed of motor-driven vehicles, and racketed his own madly down theAvenue, he was wholly helpless to do more than keep the tail-lamp of thefirst in sight. 

More than once that dull red eye seemed sardonically to wink. 

Still, Lanyard did not think "Karl" knew he was pursued. His conveyance hadpassed the corner before Lanyard emerged from the side street. There beingno reason that Lanyard knew of why the spy should believe himself undersuspicion, his haste seemed most probably due to natural desire to avoidadventitious recognition, coupled with, no doubt, other urgent business. 

At Seventy-second Street the chase turned east, with Lanyard two blocksbehind, and for a few agonizing moments was altogether lost to him. But atBroadway the tide of southbound traffic hindered it momentarily, and itswung into that stream with its pursuer only a block astern. 

Thereafter through a ride of another mile and a half, the distance betweenthe two was augmented or abbreviated arbitrarily by the rules of the road. 

At one time less than two cab-lengths separated them; then a Ford, drivenFordishly, wandered vaguely out of a crosstown street and hesitated in themiddle of the thoroughfare with precisely the air of a staring yokel ona first visit to the city; and Lanyard's driver slammed on the emergencybrake barely in time to escape committing involuntary but justifiableflivvercide. 

When he was able once more to throw the gears into high, the chase was along block ahead. 

They were entering Longacre Square before he made up that loss. 

And at Forty-fourth Street, again, a stream of east-bound cars edged inbetween the two, reducing Lanyard's driver to the verge of gibberinglunacy. 

A car resembling "Karl's" was crossing Broadway at Forty-second Street whenLanyard was still on Seventh Avenue north of the Times Building. 

But only a minute later his driver pulled up in front of the HotelKnickerbocker, and Lanyard, peering through the forward window, saw thenumber 76-385 on the license plate of a taxicab drawing away, empty, fromthe curb beneath the hotel canopy. 

He tossed the second gold piece to the driver as his feet touched thesidewalk, and shouldered through a cluster of men and women at the mainentrance to the lobby. 

That rendezvous of Broadway was fairly thronged despite the slackmid-evening hour, between the dinner and the supper crushes; but Lanyardreviewed in vain the little knots of guests and loungers; if "Karl" wereamong them, he was nobody whom Lanyard had learned to know by sight onboard the _Assyrian_. 

With as little success he searched unobtrusively all public rooms on themain floor. 

It was, of course, both possible and probable that "Karl, " himself a guestof the hotel, had crossed directly to the elevators and been whisked aloftto his room. 

With this in mind, Lanyard paused at the desk, asked permission to examinethe register and, being accommodated, was somewhat consoled; if his chasehad failed of its immediate objective, it now proved not altogetherfruitless. A majority of the _Assyrian_ survivors seemed to have elected tostop at the Knickerbocker. One after another Lanyard, scanning the entries, found these names:

 Edmund O'Reilly--Detroit Arturo Velasco--Buenos Aires Bartlett Putnam--Philadelphia Cecelia Brooke--London Emil Dressier--Genève

Half inclined to commit the imprudence of sending a name up to MissBrooke--any name but André Duchemin, Michael Lanyard, or AnthonyEmber--together with a message artfully worded to fix her interest withoutgiving comfort to the enemy, should it chance to go astray, the adventurerhesitated by the desk; and of a sudden was satisfied that such a move wouldbe not only injudicious but waste of time; for, now that he paused to thinkof it, he surmised that the young woman--"young and good-looking", onWalker's word--who had called to see Colonel Stanistreet was none otherthan this same Cecelia Brooke. 

What more natural than that she should make early occasion to consult thehead of the British Secret Service in America?

A pity he had not waited there in the window! If he had, no doubt themystery with which the girl had surrounded herself would be no more mysteryto Lanyard; he would have learned the secret of that paper cylinder as wellas the part the girl had played in the intrigue for its possession, and sobe the better advised as to his own future conduct. 

But in his insensate passion for revenge upon one who had all but murderedhim, he had forgotten all else but the moment's specious opportunity. 

With a grunt of impatience Lanyard turned away from the desk, and came faceto face with Crane. 

The Secret Service man was coming from the direction of the bar in companywith Velasco, O'Reilly, and Dressier. 

Of the three last named but one looked Lanyard's way, O'Reilly, and hisgaze, resting transiently on the countenance of André Duchemin minus theDuchemin beard, passed on without perceptible glimmer of recognition. 

Why not? Why should it enter his head that one lived and had anticipatedhis own arrival in New York by twenty hours whom be believed to be buriedmany fathoms deep off Nantucket?

As for Crane, his cool gray, humorous eyes, half-hooded with their heavylids, favoured Lanyard with casual regard and never a tremor of interestor surprise; but as he passed his right eye closed deliberately and with asignificance not to be ignored. 

To this Lanyard responded only with a look of blankest amaze. 

Chatting with an air of subdued self-congratulation pardonable in suchas have come safe to land through many dangers of the deep, the quartetstrolled round the desk and boarded one of the elevators. 

Not till its gate had closed did Lanyard stir. Then he went away from therewith all haste and cunning at his command. 

The route through the café to Broadway offered the speediest and leastconspicuous of exits. From the side door of the hotel he plunged directlyinto the mouth of the Subway kiosk and, chance favouring him, managed topurchase a ticket and board a southbound local train an instant before itsdoors ground shut. 

Believing Crane would take the next elevator down, once he had seen theothers safely in their rooms, Lanyard was content to let him find the lobbydestitute of ghosts, to let him fume and wonder and think himself perhapsmistaken. 

The last thing he desired was entanglement with the American SecretService. For Crane he entertained personal respect and temperate liking, thought the man socially an amusing creature, professionally a deadly perilto one who had a feud to pursue. 

Leaving the train at Grand Central, the adventurer passed through the backways of the Terminus, into the Hotel Biltmore, upstairs to its lobby, thence out by the Vanderbilt Avenue entrance, walking through Forty-fourthStreet to Fifth Avenue, where he chartered a taxicab, gave the addressof his lodgings, and lay back in the corner of its seat satisfied he hadsuccessfully eluded pursuit and very, very grateful to the Subway systemfor the facilities it afforded fugitives like himself through its warren ofunderground passages. 

One thing troubled him, however, without respite: the Brooke girl was onhis conscience. To her he owed an accounting of his stewardship of thattrust which she had reposed in him. It was intolerable in his understandingthat she should be permitted to go one unnecessary hour in ignorance of thetruth about that business--the truth, that is, as far as he himself knewit. 

If through Crane or in some unforseeable fashion she were to learn thatAndré Duchemin lived, she would think him faithless. If she knew thatDuchemin had been one with Michael Lanyard, the Lone Wolf, she would not besurprised. But that, too, was intolerable; even the Lone Wolf had his codeof honour. 

Again, if she remained in ignorance of the fact that Lanyard had escapeddrowning, she would continue to believe her secret at the bottom of the seawith him; whereas, in the hands of the enemy, in the possession of "Karl"and his, confederates, it was potentially Heaven only knew how dangerous aweapon. 

Abruptly Lanyard reflected that at least one doubt had been eliminated bythat encounter in the Knickerbocker. It was barely possible that "Karl" hadgone to the bar on entering and added himself to Crane's party, but itwas hardly creditable in Lanyard's consideration. He was convinced that, whether or not Velasco, O'Reilly, and Dressier were parties to the Hunconspiracy, none of these was "Karl. "

As for the Brooke matter, he felt it incumbent upon him immediately to findsome safe means of communicating with the girl. She could be trusted not tobetray him to the police, however much she might at first incline to doubthim. But he would persuade her of his sincerity, never fear!

The telephone offered one solution of his difficulty, an agencynon-committal enough, provided one were at pains not to call from one'sprivate station, to which the call might be traced back. 

With this in mind he stopped and dismissed his taxicab at Fifty-seventhStreet and Sixth Avenue, and availed himself of a coin-box telephone boothin the corner druggist's. 

The experience that followed was nothing out of the ordinary. Lanyard, connected with the Knickerbocker promptly, with the customary expenditureof patience laboriously spelled out the name B-r-double-o-k-e, and was toldto hold the wire. 

Several minutes later he began to agitate the receiver hook and waseventually rewarded with the advice that the Knickerbocker operator, beinginformed his party was in the rest'runt, was having her paged. 

Still later the central operator told him his five minutes was up andconsented to continue the connection only on deposit of an additionalnickel. 

Eventually, in sequel to more abuse of the hook, he received this responsefrom the Knickerbocker switchboard: "Wait a min'te, can't you? Here's yourparty. "

Lanyard was surprised at the eagerness with which he cried: "Hello!"

A click answered, and a bland voice which was not the voice he had expectedto hear: "Hello? That you, Jack?"

He said wearily: "I am waiting to speak with Miss Cecelia Brooke. "

"Oh, then there _must_ be some mistake. This is Miss _Crooke_ speaking. "

Lanyard uttered a strangled "Sorry!" and hung up, abandoning further effortas hopeless. 

That matter would have to stand over till morning. 

Time now pressed: it was nearly eleven; he had a rendezvous with Destiny tokeep at midnight, and meant to be more than punctual. 

Walking to his apartment house, he proceeded to establish an alibi byentering through the public hallway and registering with the telephoneattendant a call for seven o'clock the next morning. 

In the course of the next half hour Lanyard let himself quietly out of theprivate door, slipped around the block and boarded a Riverside Drive bus. 

Alighting at Ninety-third Street, he walked two blocks north on the Drive, turned east, and without misadventure admitted himself a second time to theStanistreet garden. 

XIV

DEFAMATION

It was hardly possible to watch Mr. Blensop functioning in his vocationalcapacity without reflecting on that cruel injustice which Nature only toooften practises upon her offspring in secreting most praiseworthy qualitieswithin fleshy envelopes of hopelessly frivolous cast. 

The flowing gestures of this young man, his fluting accents, poetic eyes, and modestly ingratiating moustache, the preciosity of his taste in dress, assorted singularly with an austere devotion to duty rare if unaffected. 

Beyond question, whether or not naturally a man of studious andconscientious temper, Mr. Blensop figured to admiration in the role of suchan one. 

Seated, the shaded lamplight an aureole for his fair young head, he wroughtindustriously with a beautiful gold-mounted fountain pen for fully fiveminutes after Lanyard had stolen into the draped recess of the Frenchwindow, pausing only now and again to take a fresh sheet of paper orconsult one of the sheaves of documents that lay before him. 

At length, however, he hesitated with pen lifted and abstracted gazefocussed upon vacancy, shook a bewildered head, and rose, moving directlytoward the windows. 

For as long as thirty breathless seconds Lanyard remained in doubt; therewas the barest chance that in his preoccupation Blensop might pass throughto the garden without noticing that dark figure flattened against theinswung half of the window, in the dense shadow of the portière. Otherwisethe game was altogether up; Lanyard could see no way to avoid the necessityof staggering Blensop with a blow, racing for freedom, abandoning utterlyfurther effort to learn the motive of "Karl's" impersonation of Duchemin. 

He gathered himself together, waited poised in readiness for anyeventuality--and blessed his lucky stars to find his apprehensions idle. 

Three paces from the windows, Mr. Blensop made it plain that he was afterall not minded to stroll in the garden. Pausing, he swung a high-backedwing chair round to face the corner of the room, switched on a readinglamp, sat down and selected a volume of some work of reference from thewell-stocked book shelves. 

For several minutes, seated within arm's length of the trespasser, hestudied intently, then with a cluck of satisfaction replaced the volume, extinguished the light, and went back to his writing. 

But presently he checked with a vexed little exclamation, shook his penimpatiently, and fixed it with a frown of pained reproach. 

But that did no good. The cussedness of the inanimate was strong in thispen: since its reservoir was quite empty it mulishly refused more servicewithout refilling. 

With a long-suffering sigh, Mr. Blensop found a filler in one of the deskdrawers, and unscrewed the nib of the pen. 

This accomplished, he paused, listened for a moment with head cockedintelligently to one side, dropped the dismembered implement, and got upalertly. At the same moment the door to the hallway opened, and two womenentered, apparently sisters: one a lady of mature and distinguished charm, the other an equally prepossessing creature much her junior, the onestrongly animated with intelligent interest in life, the other a listlessprey to habitual ennui. 

To these fluttered Mr. Blensop, offering to relieve them of their wraps. 

"Permit me, Mrs. Arden, " he addressed the elder woman, who tolerated himdispassionately. "And Mrs. Stanistreet ... I say, aren't you a bit late?"

"Frightfully, " assented Mrs. Stanistreet in a weary voice. "It must be allof midnight. "

"Hardly that, Adele, " said Mrs. Arden with a humorous glance. 

"Dinner, the play, supper, and home before twelve!" commented Blensop, shocked. "I say, that is going some, you know. "

"George would insist on hurrying home, " the young wife complained. "Frightfully tiresome. We were so comfy at the Ritz, too.... "

"The Crystal Room?" Dissembled envy poisoned Blensop's accents. 

"Frightfully interestin'--everybody was there. I did so want todance--missed you, Arthur. "

"I say, you didn't, did you, really?"

"Poor Mr. Blensop!" Mrs. Arden interjected with just a hint of malice. "What a pity you must be chained down by inexorable duty, while we flyround and amuse ourselves. "

"I must not complain, " Blensop stated with humility becoming in a dutifulmartyr, a pose which he saw fit quickly to discard as another man camebriskly into the room. "Ah, good evening, Colonel Stanistreet. "

"Evening, Blensop. "

With a brusque nod, Colonel Stanistreet went straightway to the desk, stopping there to take up and examine the work upon which his secretary hadbeen engaged: a gentleman considerably older than his wife, of grave andsturdy cast, with the habit of standing solidly on his feet and givingundivided attention to the matter in hand. 

"Anything of consequence turned up?" he enquired abstractedly, runningthrough the sheets of pen-blackened paper. 

"Three persons called, " Blensop admitted discreetly. "One returns atmidnight. "

Stanistreet threw him a keen look. "Eh!" he said, making swift inference, and turned to his wife and sister-in-law. "It is nearly twelve now. Forgiveme if I hurry you off. "

"Patience, " said Mrs. Arden indulgently. "Not for worlds would I hinderyour weighty affairs, dear old thing, but I sleep more sound o' nights whenI know my trinkets are locked up securely in your safe. "

With a graceful gesture she unfastened a magnificent necklace and depositedit on the desk. 

"Frightful rot, " her sister commented from the doorway. "As if anybodywould dare break in here. "

"Why not?" Mrs. Arden enquired calmly, stripping her fingers of theirrings. 

"With a watchman patrolling the grounds all night--"

"Letty is sensible, " Stanistreet interrupted. "Howson's faithful enough, and these American police dependable, but second-storey men happen in thebest-guarded neighbourhoods. Be advised, Adele: leave your things here withLetty's. "

"No fear, " his wife returned coolly. "Too frightfully weird.... "

She drifted across the threshold, then hesitated, a pretty figure ofdisdainful discontent. 

"But really, Colonel Stanistreet is right, " Blensop interposed vivaciously. "What do you imagine I heard to-night? The Lone Wolf is in America!"

"What is that you say?" Mrs. Arden demanded sharply. 

"The Lone Wolf ... Fact. Have it on most excellent authority. "

"The Lone Wolf!" Mrs. Stanistreet drawled. "If you ask me, I think the LoneWolf nothing in the world but a scapegoat for police stupidity. "

"You wouldn't say that, " Mrs. Arden retorted, "if you had lived in Paris aslong as I. There, in the dear old days, we paid that rogue too heavy a taxnot to believe in him. "

"Frightful nonsense, " insisted the other. "I'm off. 'Night, Arthur. Shallyou be long, George?"

"Oh, half an hour or so, " her husband responded absently as shedisappeared. 

With a little gesture consigning her jewellery, heaped upon the desk, tothe care of her brother-in-law, Mrs. Arden uttered good-nights and followedher sister. 

Blensop bowed her out respectfully, shut the door and returned to the desk. 

"What's this about the Lone Wolf?" Stanistreet enquired, sitting down tocon the papers more intently. 

"Oh!" Blensop laughed lightly. "I was merely repeating the blighter's ownassertion. I mean to say, he boasted he was the Lone Wolf. "

"Who boasted he was the Lone Wolf?"

"Chap who called to-night, giving the name of Duchemin--André Duchemin. HadFrench passports, and letters from the Home Office recommending him ratherhighly. Useful creature, one would fancy, with his knowledge of the rightway to go about the wrong thing. What? Ought to be especially helpful to usin hunting down the Hun over here. "

"Is this the man who returns at midnight?"

"Yes, sir. I thought it best to make the appointment. "

"Why?"

"He said he had crossed on the _Assyrian_, said it significantly, you know. I fancied he might be the person you have been expecting. "

Stanistreet looked up with a frown. "Hardly, " he said--"if, that is, he isreally what he claims to be. I wonder how he came by those letters. "

"Does seem odd, doesn't it, sir? A confessed criminal!"

"An extraordinary man, by all accounts.... Those other callers--?"

"Nobody of importance, I should say. A man who gave his name as Ember andgot a bit shirty when I asked his business. Told him you might consent tosee him at nine in the morning. "

"And the other?"

"A young woman--deuced pretty girl--also reticent. What was her name?Brooke--that was it: Cecelia Brooke. "

"The devil!" Stanistreet exclaimed, dropping the papers. "What did you sayto her?"

"What could I say, sir? She refused to divulge a word about her businesswith us. I told her--"

Warned by a gesture from Colonel Stanistreet, Blensop broke off. Walker wasopening the door. 

"Well, Walker?"

"A Mr. Duchemin, sir, says Mr. Blensop made an appointment with you fortwelve to-night. "

"Show him in, please. "

The footman shut himself out. Blensop clutched nervously at Mrs. Arden'sjewels. 

"Hadn't I better put these in the safe first?"

"No--no time. " Stanistreet opened a drawer of the desk--"Here!"--and closedit as Blensop hastily swept the jewellery into it. "Safe enough there--aslong as he doesn't know, at all events. But don't forget to put them awayafter he goes. "

"No, sir. "

Again the door opened. Walker announced: "Mr. Duchemin. " Stanistreet rosein his place. A man strode in with the assurance of one who has discounteda cordial welcome. 

Through the gap which he had quietly created between the portière and theside of the window, Lanyard stared hungrily, and for the second time thatnight damned heartily the inadequate light in the library. 

The impostor's face, barely distinguishable in the up-thrown penumbraof the lampshade, wore a beard--a rather thick, dark beard of negligentabundance, after a mode popular among Frenchmen--above which his featureswere an indefinite blur. 

Lanyard endeavoured with ill success to identify the fellow by hiscarriage; there was a perceptible suggestion of a military strut, but thatis something hardly to be termed distinctive in these days. Otherwise, hewas tall, quite as tall as Lanyard, and had much the same character ofbody, slender and lithe. 

But he was "Karl" beyond question, confederate and murderer of Baron vonHarden, the man who had thrown the light bomb to signal the U-boat, the brute with whom Lanyard had struggled on the boat deck of the_Assyrian_--though the latter, in the confusion of that struggle, hadthought the German's beard a masking handkerchief of black silk. 

Now by that same token he was no member of that smoking-room coterie uponwhich Lanyard's suspicions had centered. 

On the other hand, any number of passengers had worn beards, not a few ofmuch the same mode as that sported by this nonchalant fraud. 

Vainly Lanyard cudgelled his wits to aid a laggard memory, haunted by afeeling that he ought to know this man instantly, even in so poor a light. Something in his habit, something in that insouciance which so narrowlyescaped insolence, was at once strongly reminiscent and provokinglyelusive.... 

Pausing a little ways within the room, the fellow clicked heels and bowedpunctiliously in Continental fashion, from the hips. 

"Colonel Stanistreet, I believe, " he said in a sonorous voice--"Karl's"unmistakable voice--"chief of the American bureau of the British SecretService?"

"I am Colonel Stanistreet, " that gentleman admitted. "And you, sir--?"

"I have adopted the name of André Duchemin, " the impostor stated. "Withpermission I retain it. "

Colonel Stanistreet inclined his head slightly. "As you will. Pray beseated. "

He dropped back into his chair, while "Karl" with a murmur ofacknowledgment again took the armchair on the far side of the desk, wherethe lamp stood between him and the secret watcher. 

"My secretary tells me you have letters of introduction.... "

"Here. " Calmly "Karl" produced and offered those purloined papers. 

"You will smoke?" Stanistreet indicated a cigarette-box and leaned back toglance through the letters. 

During a brief pause Blensop busied himself with collecting together thedocuments which had occupied him and began reassorting them, while "Karl, "helping himself to a cigarette, smoked with manifest enjoyment. 

"These seem to be in order, " Stanistreet observed. "I note from this codeletter that your true name is Michael Lanyard, you were once a professionalFrench thief known as 'The Lone Wolf', but have since displayed everyindication of desire to reform your ways, and have been of considerableuse to the Intelligence Office. I am desired to employ your services in mydiscretion, contingent--pardon me--upon your continued good behaviour. "

"Precisely, " assented "Karl. "

"Proceed, Monsieur Duchemin. "

"It is an affair of some delicacy.... Do we speak alone, ColonelStanistreet?"

"Mr. Blensop is my confidential secretary.... "

"Oh, no objection. Still--if I may venture the suggestion--those windowsopen upon a garden, I take it?"

"Yes. Blensop, be good enough to close the windows. "

"Certainly, sir. "

Stepping delicately, Blensop moved toward the end of the room. 

Again Lanyard was confronted with the alternatives of incontinent flight orattempting to remain undetected through the adoption of an expedient of themost desperate audacity. He had prepared against such contingency, he didnot mean to go; but the feasibility of his contemplated manoeuvre dependedentirely upon chance, its success in any event was forlornly problematic. 

"Karl" remained hidden from him by the lamp, so he from "Karl. " ColonelStanistreet, facing his caller, sat half turned away from the windows. Everything rested with Blensop's choice, which of the two windows he wouldelect first to close. 

A right-handed man, he turned, as Lanyard had foreseen, to the right, andmomentarily disappeared in the recess of the farther window. 

In the same instant Lanyard slipped noiselessly from behind the portière, and dropped into that capacious wing chair which Blensop had thoughtfullyplaced for him some time since. 

Thus seated, making himself as small and still as possible, he was whollyconcealed from all other occupants of the library but Blensop; and eventhis last was little likely to discover him. 

He did not. He closed and latched the farther window, then that whereinLanyard had lurked, and ambled back into the room with never a glancetoward that shadowed corner which held the wing chair. 

And Lanyard drew a deep breath, if a quiet one. Behind him the conversationhad continued without break. It was true, he could see nothing; but hecould hear all that was said, he had missed no syllable, and now everysecond was informing him to his profit.... 

"Your secretary, no doubt, has told you I am a survivor of the _Assyrian_disaster. "

"Yes.... "

"You were, I believe, expecting a certain communication of extraordinarycharacter by the _Assyrian_, to be brought, that is, by an agent of theBritish Secret Service. "

After an almost imperceptible pause Stanistreet said evenly: "It ispossible. "

"A communication, in fact, of such character that it was impossible toentrust it to the mails or to cable transmission, even in code. "

"And if so, sir... ?"

"And you are aware that, of the two gentlemen entrusted with the care ofthis document, one was drowned when the _Assyrian_ went down, and the otherso seriously injured that he has not yet recovered consciousness, butwas transferred directly from the pier to a hospital when the _Saratoga_docked. "

"What then, Monsieur Duchemin?"

"Colonel Stanistreet, " said the impostor deliberately, "I have thatcommunication. I will ask you not to question me too closely as to how itcame into my possession. I have it: that is sufficient. "

"If you possess any document which you conceive to be so valuable to theBritish Government, monsieur, and consequently to the Allied cause, I haveevery confidence in your intention to deliver it to me without delay. "

A note of mild derision crept into the accents of "Karl. "

"I have every intention of so doing, my dear sir.... But you mustappreciate I have incurred considerable personal danger, hardship, andinconvenience in taking good care of this document, in seeing that it didnot fall into the wrong hands; in short, in bringing it safely here to youto-night. "

A slightly longer pause prefaced Stanistreet's reply, something whichhe delivered in measured tones: "I am able to promise you the BritishGovernment will show due appreciation of your disinterested services, Monsieur--Duchemin. "

"Not disinterested--not that!" the cheat protested. "Gentlemen of mykidney, sir, seldom put themselves out except in lively anticipation offavours to come. "

"Be good enough to make yourself more clear. "

"Cheerfully. I possess this document. I understand its character is suchthat Germany would pay a round price for it. But I am a good patriot. Inspite of the fact that nobody knew I possessed it, in spite of the factthat I need only have quietly taken it to Seventy-ninth Street to-night--"

"Monsieur Duchemin!" Stanistreet's voice was icy. "Your price?"

"Sorry you feel that way about it, " said "Karl" with ill-concealedinsincerity. "You must know thieving is no more what it once was. Even I, too, often am put to it to make both ends--"

"If you please, sir--how much?"

"Ten thousand dollars. "

Silence greeted this demand, a lull that to Lanyard seemed endless. For inhis fury he was trembling so that he feared lest his agitation betray him. The very walls before his eyes seemed to quake in sympathy. He was aware ofthe ache of swollen veins in his temples, his teeth hurt with the pressureput upon them, his breath came heavily, and his nails were diggingpainfully into his palms. 

"Blensop?"

"Sir?"

"How much have we on hand, in the emergency fund?"

"Between ten and twelve thousand dollars, sir. "

"Intuition, monsieur, is an indispensable item in the equipment of asuccessful _chevalier d'Industrie_. So, at least, the good novelists tellus.... "

"Open the safe, Blensop, and fetch me ten thousand dollars. "

"Very good, sir. "

"I presume you won't object to satisfying me that you really have thisdocument, before I pay you your price. "

"It is this which makes it a pleasure to deal with an Englishman, monsieur:one may safely trust his word of honour. "

"Indeed.... "

"Permit me: here is the document. Use that magnifying glass I see by yourelbow, monsieur; take your time, satisfy yourself. "

"Thanks; I mean to. "

Another break in the dialogue, during which the eavesdropper heard anodd sound, a sort of muffled swishing ending in a slight thud, then thepeculiar metallic whine of a combination dial rapidly manipulated, finallythe dull clank of bolts falling back into their sockets. 

"Your _coffre-fort_--what do you say?--strong-box--safe--is cleverlyconcealed, Colonel Stanistreet. "

There was no direct reply, but after a moment Stanistreet announcedquietly: "This seems to be an authentic paper.... Monsieur Duchemin, whatknowledge precisely have you of the nature of this document?"

"Surely monsieur cannot have overlooked the circumstance that its sealswere intact. "

"True, " Stanistreet admitted. "Still.... "

"I trust Monsieur does not question my good faith?"

"Why not?" Stanistreet enquired drily. 

"Monsieur!"

"Oh, damn your play-acting, sir! If you can be capable of one infamy, youare capable of more. None the less, you are right about an Englishman'sword: here is your money. Count it and--get out!"

"Thanks"--the impostor's tone was an impertinently exact imitation ofStanistreet's--"I mean to. "

"Permit me to excuse myself, " Stanistreet added; and Lanyard heard themuffled scrape of chair-legs on the rug as the Englishman got up. 

"Gladly, " the spy returned--"and ten thousand thanks, monsieur!"

The secretary intoned melodiously: "This way, Monsieur Duchemin, if youplease. "

"Pardon. Is it material which way I leave?"

"What do you mean?" Stanistreet demanded. 

"I should be far easier in my mind if monsieur would permit me to go by wayof his garden, rather than run the risk of his front door. "

"What's this?"

"In these little affairs, monsieur, I try to make it a rule to avoidcovering the same ground twice. "

"You have the insolence to imply I would lend myself to treachery!"

"I beg monsieur's pardon very truly for suggesting such a thing. Nevertheless, one cannot well be overcautious when one is a hunted man. "

"Blensop ... Be good enough to see this man out through the garden. "

"Yes, sir. "

"Again, monsieur, my thanks. "

"Good-night, " said Stanistreet curtly. 

Blensop passed Lanyard's chair, unlatched and opened the window and stoodaside. An instant later "Karl" joined him, swung on a heel, facing back, clicked heels again and bowed mockingly. Apparently he got no response, forhe laughed quietly, then turned and went out through the window, Blensopmincing after. 

With a struggle Lanyard mastered the temptation to dash after the spy, overtake and overpower him, expose and give him up to justice. Only theknowledge that by remaining quiescent, by biding his time, he might beenabled to redeem his word to the Brooke girl, gave him strength to bestill. 

But he suffered exquisitely, maddened by the defamation imposed upon hisnick-name of a thief by this brazen impostor. 

Nor was wounded _amour-propre_ mended by an exclamation in the room behindhis chair, the accents of Colonel Stanistreet thick with contempt:

"The Lone Wolf! Faugh!"

XV

RECOGNITION

Presently Blensop came back, closed the window, and passed blindly byLanyard, his reappearance saluted by Stanistreet in tones that shook withcontained temper. 

"You saw that animal outside the walls?"

Mildly injured surprise was indicated in the reply: "Surely, sir!"

"And locked the door after him?"

"Yes, sir--securely. "

"Howson anywhere about?"

"I didn't see him. Daresay he's prowling somewhere within call. Do you wishto speak to him?"

"No.... But you might, if you see anything of him, tell him to keep anextra eye open to-night. I don't trust this self-styled Lone Wolf. "

"Naturally not, sir, under the circumstances. "

Stanistreet acknowledged this with an irritated snort. "No matter, " hethought aloud; "if it has cost us a pretty penny, we have got this safe inhand at last. I've not had too much sleep, I can promise you, since thereport came through of Bartholomew's death and Thackeray's disablement. Nor am I satisfied that this Monsieur Duchemin came by the documentfairly--confound his impudence! If he hadn't put me on honour, tacitly, I'dnot hesitate an instant about informing the police. "

"Rather chancy course to take in this business, what?"

"I don't know.... That Yankee invention known as the 'frame-up' wouldeasily make America too small for the Lone Wolf without the British SecretService ever being mentioned in the matter. "

"Yes; but suppose the beast knows the contents of this paper, suspectsthe authorship of the 'frame-up'--as he instinctively would--and blabs?Messages have been unsealed and copied and resealed before this. "

"That one consideration ties my hands.... Here, my boy: take this andput it in the safe--and don't forget Mrs. Arden's things, of course. Good-night. "

"Trust me, sir. Good-night. "

A door closed with a slight jar, and for half a minute the room was sopositively quiet that Lanyard was beginning to wonder if Blensop himselfhad gone out with his employer, when he heard a low and musical chuckle, followed by a soft clashing as the secretary scooped Mrs. Arden's jewelleryout of the desk drawer. 

Itching with curiosity, Lanyard turned with infinite care and peered roundthe wing of the chair, thus gaining a view of the wall farthest from thestreet. 

Blensop remaining invisible, Lanyard's interest centred immediately uponthe safe the ingenuity of whose concealment had excited "Karl's" favourablecomment, and with much excuse. 

One of the portraits--that upon whose merits Blensop had descanted to"Karl" earlier in the night--was, Lanyard saw, so mounted upon a solidpanel of wood that, by means of hidden mechanism, it could be movedsidelong from its frame, uncovering the face of a safe built into the wall. 

This last now stood open, its door, swung out toward Lanyard, showinga simple arrangement of dials and locks with which he was on terms ofcontemptuous familiarity; only the veriest tyro of a cracksman would wantmore than a good ear and a subtle sense of touch in order to open itwithout knowledge of the combination. 

With all its reputation for efficiency and astuteness the British SecretService entrusted its mysteries to an antiquated contraption such as this!

Humming a blithe little air, Blensop moved into Lanyard's field of visionand stopped between him and the safe, deftly pigeonholing therein thedocketed papers and Mrs. Arden's jewels. Then, closing the door, he shotits bolts, gave the dial a brisk twirl, located a lever in the side of theframe and thrust it into its socket. 

With the same swish and thud which had puzzled Lanyard at first hearing, the portrait slipped back into place. 

Rounding on a heel, Blensop paused, head to one side, a slight frownshadowing his bland countenance, and stood briefly rooted in someperplexity of obscure origin. Twice he shook a peevish head, then smiledradiantly and brought his hands together in an audible clap. 

"I have it!" he cried in delight and, dancing briskly toward the desk, oncemore disappeared. 

Now what was this which Mr. Blensop so spontaneously had, and from thehaving of which he derived so much apparently innocent enjoyment? Wantingan answer, Lanyard settled back in disgust, then sat sharply forward, gazeriveted to the near sash of the adjacent window. 

In showing "Karl" out, Blensop had moved the portières, exposing moreglass than previously had been visible. Now this mirrored darkly to theadventurer a somewhat distorted vision of Blensop standing over thedesk, seemingly employed in no more amusing occupation than filling hisfountain-pen. But undoubtedly he was in the highest spirits; for the liltof his humming rose sweet and clear and ever louder. 

To this accompaniment he pocketed his pen, two-stepped to the windows, drew the portières jealously close, returned to the desk, switched off thereading lamp, and left the room completely dark but for a dim glow from theash-filmed embers of the fire. 

But before he went out the secretary interrupted his humming to laughwith a mischievous élan which completely confounded Lanyard. He was notunacquainted with the Blensop type, but the secret glee which seemed toanimate this specimen was something far beyond his comprehension. 

As the door softly closed Lanyard moved silently across the room and bentan ear to its panels, meanwhile drawing over his hands a pair of thin whitekid gloves. 

From beyond came no sound other than a faint creaking of stair-treadsquickly silenced. 

Opening the door, Lanyard peered out, finding the hallway deserted anddimly lighted by a single bulb of little candle-power at its far end, thenscouted out as far as the foot of the stairs, listened there for a little, hearing no sounds above, and reconnoitred through the other living rooms, at length returning to the library persuaded he was alone on the groundfloor of the house. 

A Yale lock was fixed to the library side of the door. Lanyard released itscatch, insuring freedom from interruption on the part of anybody who lackedthe key, crossed to the other side door, left this on the latch and, havingthus provided an avenue for escape, turned attention to business, in brief, to the safe. 

Turning on the picture-light he found and operated the lever, with hisother hand so restraining the action of the panel that it moved asidewithout perceptible jar. 

Then with an ear to that smooth, cold face of enamelled steel, he beganto manipulate the combination. From within the door a succession of softclicks and knocks punctuated the muted whine of the dial, speakinga language only too intelligible to the trained hearing of a thief;synchronous breaks and resistance in the action of the dial conveyedadditional information through the medium of supersensitive finger tips. Within two minutes he had learned all he needed to know, and standing backtwirled the knob right and left with a confident hand. At its fourth stophe heard the dull bump of released tumblers, grasped the handle, andtwisted it strongly. The door swung open. 

Systematically Lanyard searched the pigeonholes, emptying all but one, examining minutely their contents without finding that slender roll ofpaper. 

Mystified, he hesitated. The thing, of course, was somewhere there, onlyhidden more cunningly than he had hoped. It was possible, even probable, that Blensop had stowed the cylinder away in a secret compartment. 

But the interior arrangement was disconcertingly simple. Lanyard saw nosign of waste space in which such a drawer might be secreted. Unless, to besure, one of the pigeonholes had a false back.... 

He began a fresh examination, again emptying each pigeonhole and soundingits rear wall without result till there remained only that in which Blensophad placed the Arden jewels. 

It was necessary to move these, but Lanyard long withheld his hand, reluctant to touch them, for that same reason which had influenced him toavoid them in his first search. 

Jewels such as these he both worshipped and desired with the passionateadoration of connoisseur and lover in one. He feared violently thetemptation of physical contact with such stuff. 

For his was no thief's errand to-night, but a matter, as he conceivedit, of his private honour, something apart and distinct from the code ofrogue's ethics which guided his professional activities. He had pledgedhis word to Cecelia Brooke to keep safe for her that cylinder of paper, toreturn it upon her demand for whatsoever disposition she might choose tomake of it. It was no concern of his what that choice might turn out tobe, any more than it was his affair if the document were a paper ofinternational importance. But she must and should, if act of his couldcompass it, be given opportunity to redeem her word of honour if, as onebelieved, that likewise were involved in the fate of the document. 

He had stolen into this house like a thief because he had given his pledgeand perforce had been made false to that pledge, because he had beendespoiled of the concrete evidence of the trust reposed unasked in him, andbecause he had learned that his spoiler was to meet Stanistreet in thisroom at midnight. 

He was here solely to make good his word, to take away that cylinder, couldhe find it, and to return it to the girl ... Not to thieve.... 

Never that!... 

Slowly, reluctantly, inevitably he put forth his hand and selected fromamong those brilliant symbols of his soul's profound damnation thenecklace, a rope of diamonds consummately matched, a rivulet of frozenfire, no single stone less lovely than another. 

"Admirable!" he whispered. "Oh, admirable!"

Hesitant to do this thing which to him, by the strange standard of hiswarped code, spelled dishonour, he would and he would not; and while hepaltered, was visited by an oddly vivid memory of the clear and candid eyesof Cecelia Brooke, seemed veritably to see them searching his own withtheir look of grieving wonder ... The eyes of one woman who had reckonedhim worthy of her trust.... 

Almost he won victory in this fight he was foredoomed to lose. Under thelevel and steadfast regard of those eyes his hand went out to replace thenecklace, moved unsteadily, faltered.... 

Beyond the windows an incautious footfall sounded. In the darkness outthere someone blundered into a piece of wicker furniture and disturbed itwith a small scraping sound, all but inaudible, but to the thief as loud asthe blast of a police whistle. 

Instantly and instinctively, in two simultaneous gestures, Lanyard droppedthe necklace into an inner pocket of his coat and switched off thepicture-light. 

With hands now as steady and sure as they had been vacillant a momentsince, he closed the safe door noiselessly, shot its bolts, and was yardsaway, crouching behind an armchair, before the man outside had ceased tofumble with the window fastenings. 

If this were the watchman Howson, doubtless he would be satisfied withfinding the room dark and apparently untenanted, and would go off upon hisrounds unsuspecting. If he did not, or if he noticed the displaced panel, then would come Lanyard's time to break cover and run for it. 

With a faint creak one of the windows swung inward. Curtain-rings clasheddully on their poles. Someone came through the portières and paused, pulling them together behind him. The beam of an electric flash-lamp lancedthe gloom and its spotlight danced erratically round the walls. 

Now there was no more thought of flight in Lanyard's humour, but rather afirm determination to stand his ground. This was no night watchman, but ahousebreaker, one with no more title to trespass upon those premises thanhimself; and at that an unskilled hand at such work, the rawest of amateurspractising methods as clumsy and childish as any actor playing at burglaryon a stage before a simple-minded audience. 

The noise he made on entering alone proved that, then this fatuous businesswith the flash-lamp. And as he moved inward from the windows it becameevident that he had not even had the wit to close the portières completely;a violet glimmer of starlight shone in through a deep triangular gapbetween them at the top. 

For all that, the intruder seemed to know what he wanted and where to seekit, betrayed a nice acquaintance with the room, proceeding directly to thesafe picked out by his lamp. 

Arrived beneath it he uttered a low sound which might have been interpretedas surprise due to finding the panel already out of place. If so, surpriseevidently roused in him no suspicion that all might not be well. On thecontrary, he quite calmly located and turned the switch controlling thepicture-light. 

Immediately, as its rays gushed down and disclosed the man, Lanyardrose boldly from his place in hiding. Now there was no more need forconcealment; now was his enemy delivered into his hands. 

The man was "Karl. "

His back to Lanyard, unconscious of that one's catlike approach, the spyput up his flash-lamp, searched in a waistcoat pocket and produced a slipof paper, and bent his face close to the combination dial, studying itsfigures; but abruptly, like a startled animal, whirled round to face thewindows. 

One of the sashes was thrown back roughly, and a figure clad in the graylivery of a private watchman parted the portières and entered the library. 

"Everything all right in here, Mr. Blensop?"

Lanyard saw the sheen of blue steel in the hands of "Karl, " and leaped toolate: even as he fell upon the spy's shoulders, the pistol exploded. 

The watchman reeled back with a choking cry, caught wildly at theportières, and dragged them down with him as he fell. 

His screams of agony made hideous the night. And the second cry was no morethan uttered when Lanyard, even in the heat of his struggle, heard soundsindicating that already the household was alarmed. 

But the door would hold for a while; it was not probable that the first tocome downstairs would think to bring with him the key. Time enough tothink of escape when Lanyard had settled his score with this one: no lightundertaking; not only was the score a long one, longer than Lanyard thendreamed, but, as he had learned to his cost, the man was an antagonist ofskill and strength not to be despised. 

Nevertheless, aided by the surprise of his onslaught, Lanyard succeededin disarming the spy, forcing him to drop the pistol at the outset, andthrough attacking from behind had him at a further disadvantage. For allthat he found his hands full till, by a trick of jiu-jitsu, he wrenched oneof the fellow's arms behind him so roughly as almost to dislocate it at theshoulder and, forcing the forearm up toward his shoulder blades, held himtemporarily helpless. 

"Be still, you murderous canaille!" he growled--"or must I tear your armfrom its socket? Still, I say!"

"Karl" uttered a grunt of pain and ceased to struggle. 

Pinning him against the bookcase, Lanyard hastily rifled his pockets, atthe first dip bringing forth a thin sheaf of American bank-notes with thefigures $1000 conspicuous on the uppermost. 

"Ten thousand dollars, " he said grimly--"precisely my fee for the use of myname--to say nothing of its abuse!"

A torrent of untranslatable German blasphemy answered him. Intelligible wasthe half-frantic demand: "Who the devil are you?"

"Take a look, assassin--see for yourself!" Lanyard twisted the spy aroundto face him, holding him helpless against the wall with a knee in hismiddle and a hand gripping his throat inexorably. "Do you know me now--theman you thought you'd drowned a hundred fathoms deep?"

Blows thundered on the hallway door. Neither heeded. The spy was staringinto Lanyard's face, his eyes starting with horror and affright. 

"Lanyard!" he gasped. "Good God! will you never die?"

"Never by your hand--" Lanyard began, but stopped sharply. 

For a moment he glared incredulously, and in that moment knew his enemy. 

"Ekstrom!" he cried; and the man at his mercy winced and quailed. 

The din in the hallway grew louder. Voices cried out for the key. Somebodythrew himself against the door so heavily that it shook. 

The emergency forced itself upon Lanyard's consciousness, would not bedenied. Its dilemma seemed calculated to unseat his reason. If he lingered, he was lost. Either he must grant this creature new lease of life, or becaught and pay the penalty of murder for an execution as surely just as anyin the history of mankind. 

It was bitter, too bitter to have come to this his hour so long desired, solong deferred, so arduously sought, and have the fruits of it snatched fromhis craving grasp. 

He could not bring himself to this renunciation; slowly his fingerstightened on the other's throat. 

Driven to desperation by the light of madness that began to flicker inLanyard's eyes, the Prussian abruptly put all he had of might and fury intoone final effort, threw Lanyard off, and in turn attacked him, fightinglike a lunatic for footroom, for space enough to turn and make for thewindows. 

In spite of all he could do Lanyard saw the man work away from the wall andmanoeuvre his back toward the windows; then he flew at him with redoubledfury, driving home blow after blow that beat down Ekstrom's guard and senthim staggering helplessly, till an uppercut, swinging in under his upliftedforearms, put an end to the combat. Ekstrom shot backward half a dozenfeet, stumbled over the prostrate body of the watchman, and crashedheadlong into the windows, going down in a shower of shattered glass. 

In one and the same instant Lanyard darted back and dropped upon his kneesin the shadow of the club lounge, and the door to the hallway slammed open. A knot of men, to the number of half a dozen, tumbling into the library, saw that figure floundering amid the ruins of the window, and made for it, passing on the other side of the lounge, between it and the fireplace. 

Unseen, Lanyard rose, ran crouching across the room; found the side door, opened it just far enough to permit the passage of his body, and drew it tobehind him. 

Ninety-fifth Street was a lonely lane of midnight quiet. He sped across itlike the shadow of a cloud wind-hunted. 

XVI

AU PRINTEMPS

In those days New York nights were long; this was still young when Lanyardsauntered sedately from a side street and stopped on a corner of Broadwayin the Nineties; he had not long to wait ere a southbound taxicab hove insight and sheered over to the curb in answer to his signal. 

It was still something short of one o'clock when he was set down at hisdoor. 

Wearily he let himself in by the private entrance, made a light, andwithout troubling even to discard his overcoat threw himself into a chair. Leaden depression weighed down his heart, and the flavour of failure wasas aloes in his mouth. Thrice within an hour he had fallen short of hispromises, to Cecelia Brooke, to himself, to his _idée fixe_. His threechances, to redeem his word to the girl, to measure up to his queercriterion of honour, to rid his world of Ekstrom, all had slipped throughfingers seemingly too infirm to profit by them. 

He felt of a sudden old; old, and tired, and lonely. 

The uses of his world, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable! What washis life? An emptiness. Himself? A shuttlecock, the helpless sport ofhis own failings, a vain thing alternately strutting and stumbling, nowswaggering in the guise of an avenger self-appointed, now sneaking in theshameful habiliments of a felon self-condemned. 

What had prevented his dealing out to Ekstrom the punishment he had so wellearned? That insatiable lust for loot of his. But for that damning evidenceagainst him of the stolen necklace in his pocket he might have had his willof Ekstrom, and justified himself when discovered by proving that he hadmerely done justice to a thief who sold what he had stolen and stole backto steal again what he had sold. 

Self-contempt attacked self-conceit like an acid. He saw Michael Lanyarda sorry figure, sitting stultified with self-pity ... Crying over spiltmilk.... 

Impatiently he shook himself. What though he had to-night forfeited hischances? He could, nay, would, make others. He must.... 

To what end? Would life be sweeter if one found a way to restore to CeceliaBrooke her precious document and to smuggle back to Mrs. Arden her pilfereddiamonds? Would this deadly ache of loneliness be less poignant withEkstrom dead?

With lack-lustre eyes he looked round that cheerless room, reckoning itsperfunctory pretense of comfort the forlornest mockery. To lodgings such asthis he was condemned for life, to an interminable sequence of transientquarters, sordid or splendid, rich or mean, alike in this common quality ofhollow loneliness.... 

His aimless gaze wandered toward the door opening on the public hallway, and became fixed upon a triangular shape of white paper, the half of anenvelope tucked between door and sill. 

Presently he rose and got the thing, not until he touched it quitepersuaded he was not the victim of an optical hallucination. 

A square envelope of creamy paper, it was superscribed simply in a handstrange to him, _Anthony Ember, Esq_. , with the address of his apartmenthouse. 

Tearing the envelope he found within a double sheet of plain notepaperbearing a message of five words penned hastily:

 "_Au Printemps_-- "_one o'clock_-- "_Please_!"

Nothing else, not another word or pen-scratch.... 

Opening the door Lanyard hailed the hall-attendant, a sleepy and notover-intelligent negro. 

"When did this come for me?"

"'Bout anour ago, Mistuh Embuh. "

"Who brought it?"

"A messenger boy done fotch it, suh--look lak th' same boy. "

"What same boy?"

"Same as come in when you do, 'bout 'leven o'clock--remembuh?"

Lanyard nodded, recalling that on his way up the street from Sixth Avenuehe had been subconsciously irritated by the shrill, untuneful whistling ofa loutish youth in Western Union uniform, who had followed him into thehouse and become engaged in some minor altercation with the attendantswhile Lanyard was unlocking the door to his apartment. 

"What of him?"

"Why, he bulge in heah an' say we done send a call, an' we tell him we don'know nuffin' 'bout no call, an' he sweah an' carry on, an' aftuh you donegone in he ast whut is yo' name, an' somebody tell him an' he go away. An'then 'bout haffanour aftuhwuds he come back with that theah lettuh--say tostick it undeh yo' do, ef yo' ain't home. Leastways he look to me lak th'same boy. Ah dunno fo' suah. "

Repeated efforts failing to extract more enlightenment from this source, Lanyard again shut himself in with the puzzle. 

Somebody had set a messenger boy to dog him and find out his name andaddress. Not Crane: Lanyard had seen that one disappear in the elevator ofthe Knickerbocker and had thereafter moved too quickly to permit of Crane'sreturning to the lobby, calling a messenger boy, and pointing out Lanyard. 

For that matter, Lanyard was prepared to swear nobody had followed him fromthe Knickerbocker to the Biltmore. 

Vaguely he seemed to recall a first impression of the boy at the time whenhe emerged from the drug store after his unprofitable effort to telephoneCecelia Brooke, an indefinite memory of a shambling figure with noseflattened against the druggist's window, apparently fascinated by thedisplay of a catch-penny corn cure. 

Was there a link between that circumstance and the long delay which Lanyardhad suffered in the telephone booth? Had the Knickerbocker operator beenless stupid and negligent than she seemed? Was the truth of the matter thatCrane had surmised Lanyard would attempt communication with the Brooke girland had set a watch on the switchboard for the call?

Assuming that the Secret Service man had been clever enough for that, it was not difficult to understand that Lanyard had purposely been keptdangling at the other end of the wire till the call could be traced back toits source and a messenger despatched from the nearest Western Union officewith instructions to follow the man who left the booth, and report his nameand local habitation. 

Sharp work, if these inferences were reasonable. And, satisfied thatthey were, Lanyard inclined to accord increased respect to the detectiveabilities of the American. 

But this note, this hurried, unsigned scrawl of five unintelligible words:what the deuce did it mean?

On the evidence of the handwriting a woman had penned it. Cecelia Brooke?Who else? Crane might well have been taken into her confidence, subsequentto the sinking of the _Assyrian_, and on discovering that Lanyard hadsurvived have used this means of relieving the girl's distress of mind. 

But its significance?... "Au Printemps" translated literally meant "in thespringtime, " and "in the springtime at one o'clock" was mere gibberish, incomprehensible. There is in Paris a department store calling itself "AuPrintemps"; but surely no one was suggesting to Lanyard in New York arendezvous in Paris!

Nevertheless that "Please!" intrigued with a note at once pleading andimperative which decided Lanyard to answer it without delay, in person. 

"_Au Printemps--one o'clock--please_!"

Upon the screen of memory there flashed a blurred vision of an electricsign emblazoning the phrase, "Au Printemps, " against the façade of abuilding with windows all blind and dark save those of the street level, which glowed pink with light filtered through silken hangings; a buildingwhich Lanyard had already passed thrice that night without, in thepreoccupation of his purpose, paying it any heed; a building on Broadwaysomewhere above Columbus Circle, if he were not mistaken. 

Already it was one o'clock. Fortunately he was still in evening dress, andneeded only to change collar and tie to repair the disarray caused by hisencounter with Ekstrom. 

In two minutes he was once more in the street. 

Within five a cab deposited him in front of the Restaurant Au Printemps, aninstitution of midnight New York whose title for distinction resided mainlyin the fact that it opened its upper floors for the diversion of "members"about the time when others put up their shutters. 

Lanyard's advent occurred at the height of its traffic. The dining rooms onthe street level were closed and unlighted: but men and women in pairsand parties were streaming across the sidewalk from an endless chain ofmotor-cars and being ground through the revolving doors like grist in thehopper of an unhallowed mill, the men all in evening dress, the women ingarments whose insolence outrivalled the most Byzantine nights of L'AbbayeThêlème. 

Drawn in with the current through the turnstile door, Lanyard found himselfin an absurdly little lobby thronged to suffocation, largely with peopleof the half-world--here and there a few celebrities, here and there smalltight clusters of respectabilities making a brave show of feeling atease--all waiting their turn to be lifted to delectable regions aloft in anelevator barely big enough to serve in a private residence. 

For a moment Lanyard lingered unnoticed on the outskirts of thisassemblage, searching its pretty faces for the prettier face he had come tofind and wondering that she should have chosen for her purpose with him aresort of this character. His memory of her was sweet with the clean smellof the sea; there was incongruity to spare in this atmosphere heady withthe odours of wine, flesh, scent, and tobacco. Perplexing.... 

A harpy with a painted leer and predacious eyes pounced upon him, tore awayhis hat and coat, gave him a numbered slip of pasteboard by presentingwhich he would be permitted to ransom his property on extortionate terms. 

And still he saw no Cecelia Brooke, though his aloof attitude coupled withan intent but impersonal inspection of every feminine face within hisradius of vision earned him more than one smile at once furtivelyprovocative and unwelcome. 

By degrees the crowd emptied itself into the toy elevator--such of it, thatis, as was passed by a committee on membership consisting of one chubby, bearded gentleman with the look of a French diplomatist, the empressementof a head waiter and the authority of the Angel with the Flaming Sword. _Personae non gratae_ to the management--inexplicably so in mostinstances--were civilly requested to produce membership cards and, uponfailure to comply, were inexorably rejected, and departed strangelyshamefaced. Others of acceptable aspect were permitted to mingle withthe upper circles of the elect without being required to prove their"membership. "

In the person of this suave but inflexible arbiter Lanyard identified aformer maître d'hôtel of the Carlton who had abruptly and discreetly fledLondon soon after the outbreak of war. 

He fancied that this one knew him and was sedulous both to keep him in thecorner of his eye and never to meet his regard directly. 

And once he saw the man speak covertly with the elevator attendant, guarding his lips with a hand, and suspected that he was the subject oftheir communication. 

The lobby was still comfortably filled, a constant trickle of arrivalsreplacing in measure the losses by election and rejection, when Lanyard, watching the revolving doors, saw Cecelia Brooke coming in. 

She was alone, at least momentarily; and in his sight very creditablyturned out, remembering that all her luggage must have been lost with the_Assyrian_. But what Englishwoman of her caste ever permitted herself to bevisible after nightfall except in an evening gown of some sort, even thougha shabby sort? Not that Miss Brooke to-night was shabbily attired: she wasmuch otherwise; from some mysterious source of wardrobe she had conjuredwraps, furs, and a dancing frock as fresh and becoming as it was, oddlyenough, not immodest. And with whatever cares preying upon her secret mind, she entered with the light step and bright countenance of any girl of herage embarked upon a lark. 

All that was changed at sight of Lanyard. 

He bowed formally at a moment when her glance, resting on him, seemed aboutto wander on; instead it became fixed in recognition. Instantly her smilewas erased, her features stiffened, her eyes widened, her lips parted, thecolour ebbed from her cheeks. And she stopped quite still in front of thedoor till lightly jostled by other arrivals. 

Then moving uncertainly toward him, she said, "Monsieur Duchemin!" notloudly, for she was not a woman to give excuse for a scene under anycircumstances, but in a tone of complete dumbfounderment. 

Covering his own dashed contenance with a semblance of unruffledamiability, he bowed again, now over the hand which the girl tentativelyoffered, letting it rest lightly on his fingers, touching it as lightlywith his lips. 

"It is such a pleasant surprise, " he said at a venture, then addedguardedly: "But my name--I thought you knew it was now Anthony Ember. "

Her eyes were blank. "I don't understand, " she faltered. "I thought you ... I never dreamed.... Is it really you?"

"Truly, " he averred, lips smiling but mind rife with suspicion anddistrust. 

This was not acting; he was convinced that her surprise was absolutelyunfeigned. 

So she had not expected to find him "Au Printemps" at one o'clock in themorning, till that very moment had believed him as dead as any of thosepoor souls who had perished with the _Assyrian_!

Therefore that note had not come from her, therefore Lanyard hadcomplimented Crane without warrant, crediting him with another'scleverness. Then whose... ?

And while Lanyard's head buzzed with these thoughts, an independent chamberof his mind was engaged in admiring the address with which the girl wasrecovering from what must have been, what plainly had been, a staggeringshock. Already she had begun to grapple with the situation, to take herselfin hand and dissemble; already her face was regaining its accustomed castof self-confidence, composure, and intelligent animation. Throughout shepursued without a break the thread of conventional small talk. 

"It is a surprise, " she said calmly. "Really, you are a most astonishingperson, Mr. Ember. One never knows where to look for you. "

"That is my good fortune, since it provides me with unexpected pleasuressuch as this. You are with friends?"

"With a friend, " she corrected quietly--"with Mr. Crane. He stopped outsideto pay our taxi-driver. How odd it seems to find any place in the world asmuch alive as this New York!"

"It seems almost impossible, " Lanyard averred--"indeed, somehow wrong. I'vea feeling one has no right to encourage so much frivolity. And yet.... "

"Yes, " she responded quickly. "It is good to hear people laugh once more. That is why Mr. Crane suggested coming here to-night, to cheer me up. Hesaid Au Printemps was unique, promised I'd find it most amusing. "

"I'm sure.... " Lanyard began as Crane entered, breezing through theturnstile and comprehending the situation in a glance. 

"Hello!" he cried. "Didn't I tell you everybody alive would be here?"

Nor was Cecelia Brooke less ready. "But fancy meeting Mr. Ember here! I hadno idea he was in New York--had you?"

"Perhaps a dim suspicion, " Crane admitted with a twinkle, taking Lanyard'shand. "Howdy, Ember? Glad to see you, gladder'n you'd think. "

"How is that?" Lanyard asked, returning the cordiality of his grasp. 

Crane's penetrating accents must have been audible in the remotest cornerof the ground-floor rooms: he made no effort to modulate them to a quieterpitch. 

"You can help me out of a fix if you feel like it. You see, I promised MissBrooke if she'd take me for her guide, she'd see life to-night; and now, just when we're going good, I've got to renig. Man I know held me upoutside, says I'm wanted down town on special business and must go. I mightbe able to toddle back later, but can't bank on it. Do you mind taking overmy job?"

"Chaperoning Miss Brooke's investigations into the seamy side of currentsocial history? That will be delightful. "

"Attaboy! If I'm not back in half an hour you'll see her safely home, ofcourse?"

"Trust me. "

"And you'll excuse me, Miss Brooke? I hope you don't think--"

"What I do think, Mr. Crane, is that you have been most kind to a lonelystranger. Of course I'll excuse you, not willingly, but understanding youmust go. "

"That makes me a heap easier in my mind. But I' got to run. So it'sgood-night, unless maybe I see you later. So long, Ember!"

With a flirt of a raw-boned hand, Crane swung about, threw himselfspiritedly into the revolving door, was gone. 

"Amazing creature, " Lanyard commented, laughing. 

"I think him delightful, " the girl replied, surrendering her wraps to amaid. "If all Americans are like that--"

"Shall we go up?"

She nodded--"Please!"--and turned with him. 

The committee on membership himself bowed them into the elevator. Severalothers crowded in after them. For thirty seconds, while the car movedslowly upward, Lanyard was free to think without interruption. 

But what to think now? That Crane, actuated by some motive occult toLanyard, had engineered this apparently adventitious _rencontre_ for thepurpose of throwing him and the Brooke girl together? Or, again, that Cranewas innocent of guile in this matter--that other persons unknown, causingLanyard to be traced to his lodgings, had framed that note to entice him tothis place to-night? In the latter event, who was conceivably responsiblebut Velasco, Dressier, O'Reilly--any one of these, or all three working inconcert? The last-named had looked Lanyard squarely in the face withoutsign of recognition, back there in the lobby of the Knickerbocker, precisely as he should, if implicated in the conspiracies of the Boche;though it might easily have been Velasco or Dressier who had recognized theadventurer without his knowledge.... 

The car stopped, a narrow-chested door slid open, a gush of hectic lightcoloured morbidly the faces of alighting passengers, a blare of syncopatednoise singularly unmusical saluted the astonished ears of Lanyard andCecelia Brooke. She met his gaze with a smiling _moue_ and slightly liftedeyebrows. 

"More than we bargained for?" he laughed. "But there is always somethingnew in this America, I promise you. Au Printemps itself is new, at allevents did not exist when I was last in New York. "

Following her out, he paused beside the girl in a constricted space hedgedabout with tables, waiting for the maître d'hôtel to seat those who hadbeen first to leave the elevator. 

The room, of irregular conformation, held upward of two hundred guests andhabitués seated at tables large and small and so closely set togetherthat waiters with difficulty navigated narrow and tortuous channels ofcommunication. In the middle, upon a small dancing floor, rudely octagonalin shape, made smaller by tables crowded round its edge to accommodate thecrush, a mob of couples danced arduously, close-locked in one another'sarms, swaying in rhythm with the over-emphasized time beaten out by aperspiring little band of musicians on a dais in a far corner, theiractivities directed by an antic conductor whose lantern-jawed, sallow facepeered grotesquely out through a mop of hair as black and coarse and lushas a horse's mane. 

Execrable ventilation or absence thereof manufactured an atmosphere thatreeked with heat animal and artificial and with ill-blended effluvia from ahundred sources. Perhaps the odour of alcohol predominated; Lanyard thoughtof a steam-heated wine-cellar. He observed nothing but champagne in anyglass, and if food were being served it was done surreptitiously. Sweatdripped from the faces of the dancers, deep flushes discoloured all not soheavily enamelled as to preserve an inalterable complexion, the eyes ofmany stared with the fixity of hypnosis. Yet when the music ended with anunexpected crash of discord these dancers applauded insatiably till thejaded orchestra struck up once more, when they renewed their curiousgyrations with quenchless abandon. 

The Brooke girl caught Lanyard's eye, her lips moved. Thanks to the din, hehad to bend his head near to hear. 

She murmured with infinite expression: "Au Printemps!"

The maître d'hôtel was plucking at his sleeve. 

"Monsieur had made reservations, no?" Startled recognition washed the man'stired and pasty countenance. "Pardon, monsieur: this way!" He turned andbegan to thread deviously between the jostling tables. 

Dubiously Lanyard followed. He likewise had known the maître d'hôtel atsight: a beastly little decadent whose cabaret on the rue d'Antin, just offthe avenue de l'Opéra, had been a famous rendezvous of international spiestill war had rendered it advisable for him to efface himself from the kenof Paris with the same expedition and discretion which had marked thedeparture from London of his confrère who now guarded the lower gateway tothese ethereal regions of Au Printemps. 

The coincidence of finding those two so closely associated worked with theriddle of that note further to trouble Lanyard's mind. 

Was he to believe Au Printemps the legitimate successor in America of thatless pretentious establishment on the rue d'Antin, an overseas headquartersfor Secret Service agents of the Central Powers?

He began to regret heartily, not so much that he had presented himself inanswer to that note, but the responsibility which now devolved upon him ofcaring for Miss Brooke. Much as he had wished to see her an hour ago, nowhe would willingly be rid of her company. 

Why had he been lured to this place, if its character were truly what hefeared? Conceivably because he was believed--since it now appeared he hadcheated death--still to possess either that desired document or knowledgeof its whereabouts. 

Naturally the enemy would not think otherwise. He must not forget thatEkstrom was playing double; as yet none but Lanyard knew he had stolen thedocument and done a murder to cover the theft from his associates and leavehim free to sell to England without exciting their suspicion. 

Consequently, Lanyard believed, he had been invited to this place tobe sounded, to be tempted, bribed, intimidated--if need be, andpossible--somehow to be won over to the uses of the Prussian spy system. 

Leading them to the farther side of the room, the maître d'hôtel pausedbowing and mowing beside a large table already in the possession of a partyof three. 

Lanyard's eyes narrowed. One of the three was Velasco, another a young manunknown to him, a mannerly little creature who might have been written bythe author of "What the Man Will Wear" in the theatre programmes. The thirdwas Sophie Weringrode, the Wilhelmstrasse agent whom he had only thatafternoon observed entering the house in Seventy-ninth Street. 

He stopped short, in a cold rage. Till that moment a mirror-sheathed pillarhad hidden from him Velasco and the Weringrode; else Lanyard had refusedto come so far; for obviously there were no unreserved tables, indeed fewvacant chairs, in that part of the room. 

Not that he minded the cynical barefacedness of the dodge; that was indeedamusing; he was sanguine as to his ability to dominate any situation thatmight arise, and to a degree indifferent if the upshot should prove hisconfidence misplaced; and he did not in the least object to letting theenemy show his cards. But he did enormously resent what was, after all, something quite outside the calculations of these giddy conspirators, thefact that he must either beat incontinent retreat or introduce CeceliaBrooke to the company of Sophie Weringrode. 

His face darkened, a stinging reproof for the maître d'hôtel trembled onhis tongue's tip; but that one was busily avoiding his eye on the far sideof the table, drawing out a chair for "mademoiselle, " while Velasco and theWeringrode were alert to read Lanyard's countenance and forestall any stepshe might contemplate in defiance of their designs. 

At first glimpse of the Brooke girl Velasco jumped up and hastened to her, with eager Latin courtesy expressing his unanticipated delight in theprospect of her consenting to join their party. And she was suffering withquiet graciousness his florid compliments. 

At the same time the Weringrode was greeting Lanyard in the most intimatefashion--and damning him in the understanding of Cecelia Brooke with everyword. 

"My dear friend!" she cried gayly, extending a bedizened hand. "I had begunto despair of you. Is it part of your system with women always to be alittle late, always to keep us wondering?"

Schooling his features to a civil smile, Lanyard bowed over the hand. 

"In warfare such as ours, my dear Sophie, " he said with meaning, "one usesall weapons, even the most primitive, in sheer self-defense. "

The woman laughed delightedly. "I think, " she said, "if you rose from thedead at the bottom of the sea, _Tony_, it would be with wit upon yourlips.... And you have brought a friend with you? How charming!" She shiftedin her chair to face Cecelia Brooke. "I wish to know her instantly!"

Velasco was waiting only for that opening. "Dear princess, " he said, instantly, "permit me to present Miss Cecelia Brooke ... Princess deAlavia.... "

Completely at ease and by every indication enjoying herself hugely, thegirl bowed and took the hand the Weringrode thrust upon her. Her eyes, a-brim with excitement and mischief, veered to Lanyard's, ignored theirwarning, glanced away. 

"How do you do?" she said simply. "I didn't understand Mr. Ember expectedto meet friends here, but that only makes it the more agreeable. May we sitdown?"

XVII

FINESSE

The person in the educated evening clothes was made known as Mr. Revel. For Lanyard's benefit and his own he vacated the chair beside SophieWeringrode, seating himself to one side of Cecelia Brooke, who had Velascobetween her and the soi-disant princess. 

Already a waiter had placed and was filling glasses for Lanyard and thegirl. 

With the best grace he could muster the adventurer sat down, accepteda cigarette from the Weringrode case, and with openly impertinent eyesinspected the intrigante critically. 

She endured that ordeal well, smiling confidently, a handsome creature witha beautiful body bewitchingly gowned. 

Time, he considered, had been kind to Sophie--time, the mysteries of themodern toilette, and the astonishing adaptability of womankind. Splendidlyvital, like all of her sort who survive, she seemed mysteriously able torenew that vitality through the very extravagance with which she squanderedit. She had lived much of late years, rapidly but well, had learned much, had profited by her lessons. To-night she looked legitimately the princessof her pretensions; the manner of the grande dame suited her type; hergesture was as impeccable as her taste; prettier than ever, she seemed atworst little more than half her age. 

And her quick intelligence mocked the privacy of his reflections. 

"Fair, fast, and forty, " she interpreted smilingly. 

He pretended to be stunned. "Never!" he protested feebly. 

The woman reaffirmed in a series of rapid nods. "Have I ever had secretsfrom you? You are too quick for me, monsieur: I do not intend to begindeceiving you at this late day--or trying to. "

"Flattery, " he declared, "is meat and drink to me. Tell me more. "

She laughed lightly. "Thank you, no; vanity is unbecoming in men; I do notcare to make you vain. "

Aware that Cecelia Brooke was listening all the while she seemed to beenchanted with the patter of Mr. Revel and the less vapid observations ofVelasco, Lanyard sought to shunt personalities from himself. 

"And now a princess!"

"Did you not know I had married? Yes, a princess of Spain--and with acastle there, if you must know. "

"Quite a change of atmosphere from Berlin, " he remarked. "But it has doneyou no perceptible harm. "

That won him a black look. "Oh, Berlin!" she said with contemptuous lips. "I haven't been there since the beginning of the war. I wish never to seethe place again. True: I was born an Austrian; but is that any reason why Ishould love Germany?"

She leaned forward, her fan gently tapping the knuckles of his hand. 

"Pay less attention to me, " she insisted, with a nod toward the middle ofthe room. "You are missing something. Me, I never tire of her. "

The floor had been cleared. A drummer on the dais was sounding thelong-roll crescendo. At the culminating crash the lights were everywheredarkened save for an orange-coloured spot-light set in the ceilingimmediately above the dancing floor. Into that circular field of torridglare bounded a woman wearing little more than an abbreviated kirtle ofgrass strands with a few festoons of artificial flowers. Applause roaredout to her, the orchestra sounded the opening bars of an AmericanisedHawaiian melody, the woman with extraordinary vivacity began to perform adenatured hula: a wild and tawny animal, superbly physical, relying withwarrant upon the stark sensuality of her body to make amends for thecensored phrases of the primitive dance. The floor resounded like a greatdrum to the stamping of her bare feet, till one marvelled at such solidityof flesh as could endure that punishment. 

Sophie Weringrode lounged negligently upon the table, bringing her headnear Lanyard's shoulder. 

"Play fair, " she said between lips that barely moved. 

Without looking round Lanyard answered in the same manner: "Why ask morethan you are prepared to give?"

"The police ran you out of America once. We need only publish the fact thatMr. Anthony Ember is the Lone Wolf.... "

"Well?"

"Leave Berlin out of it before this girl. "

Lanyard shrugged and laughed quietly. "What else?"

"We can't talk now. Ask me for the next dance. "

The woman sat back in her chair, attentive to the posturing of the dancer, slowly fanning herself. 

Lanyard's semblance of as much interest was nothing more; furtively hiswatchfulness alternated between two quarters of the room. 

On the farther edge of the circle of tropical radiance he had marked down atable at which two men were seated, Dressier and O'Reilly. No more questionnow as to the personnel of the conspiracy; even Velasco had thrown offthe mask. The enemy had come boldly into the open, indicating a sense ofimpudent assurance, indicating even more, contempt of opposition. Nolonger afraid, they no longer skulked in shadows. Lanyard experienced apremonition of events impending. 

In addition he was keeping an eye on the door to the elevator shaft. Oncealready it had opened, letting a bright window into the farther wall of theshadowed room, discovering the figure of the maître d'hôtel in silhouette, anxiety in his attitude. He was waiting for somebody, waiting tensely. Sowere the others waiting, all that crew and their fellow workers scatteredamong the guests. Lanyard told himself he could guess for whom. 

Only Ekstrom was wanting to complete the circle. When he appeared--if bychance he should--things ought to begin to happen. 

If tolerably satisfied that Ekstrom would not come--not that night, at allevents--Lanyard, none the less, continued to be jealously heedful of thatdoorway. 

But the hula came to an end without either his vigilance or the impatienceof the maître d'hôtel being rewarded. Writhing with serpentine grace to theedge of the illuminated area, the dancer leaped back into darkness and thefolds of a wrap held by a maid, in which garment she was seen, bowing andlaughing, when the lights again blazed up. 

Without ceasing to play, changing only the time of the tune, the orchestraswung into a fox-trot. Lanyard glanced across the table to see CeceliaBrooke rising in response to the invitation of dapper Mr. Revel. 

In his turn, he rose with Sophie Weringrode. "Be patient with me, "he begged. "It is long since I danced to music more frivolous than acannonade. "

"But it is simple, " the woman promised--"simple, at least, to one who candance as you could in the old days. Just follow me till you catch the step. It doesn't matter, anyway; I desire only the opportunity to converse. "

Yielding to his arms, she shifted into French when next she spoke. 

"You do admirably, my friend. Never again depreciate your dancing. If youknew how one suffers at the feet of these Americans--!"

"Excellent!" he said. "Now that is settled: what is it you are instructedto propose to me?"

She laughed softly. "Always direct! Truly you would never shine as a secretagent. "

"Not as they shine, " Lanyard countered--"in the dark. "

"Don't be a fraud. We are what we are, and so are you. Let us not begin tobe censorious of one another's methods of winning a living. "

"Agreed. But when do we begin to talk business?"

"Why do you continue so persistently antagonistic?"

"I am French. "

"That is silly. You are an outlaw, a man without a country. Why not changeall that?"

"And how does one effect miracles?"

"Germany offers you a refuge, security, freedom to ply your tradeunhindered--within reasonable limits. "

"And in exchange what do I give?"

"Your services, as and when required, in our service. "

"Beginning when?"

"To-night. "

"With what specific performance?"

"We want, we must without fail have, that document you took from the Brookegirl. "

"Perhaps we had better continue in English. You are speaking a tongueunknown to me. "

"Don't talk rot. You know well what I mean. We know you have the thing. You didn't steal it to turn it over to England or the States. What is yourprice to Germany?"

"Whatever you have in mind, believe me when I say I have nothing to sell tothe Wilhelmstrasse. "

"But what else can you do with it? What other market--?"

"My dear Sophie, upon my word I haven't got what you want. "

"Then why so keen to get the Brooke girl on the telephone as soon as youfound out where she was stopping?"

"How did you learn about that, by the way?"

"Let the credit go to Señor Velasco. He saw you first. "

"One thought as much.... Nevertheless, I haven't what you want. "

"You gave it back to Miss Brooke?"

"Having nothing to give her, I gave her nothing. "

The woman was silent throughout a round of the floor; then, "Tell mesomething, " she requested. 

"Can I keep anything from you?"

"Are you in love with the English girl?"

Lanyard almost lost step, then laughed the thought to derision. "What putthat into your pretty head, Sophie?"

"Do you not know it yourself, my friend?"

"It is absurd. "

She laughed maliciously. "Think it over. Possibly you have not stopped tothink as yet. When you know the truth yourself, you will be the betterqualified to fib about it. Also, you will not forget.... "

"What?" he demanded bluntly as she paused with intention. 

"That as long as she possesses the document--since you have it not--herlife is endangered even more than yours. "

"She hasn't got it!" Lanyard declared, as nearly in panic as he ever was. 

"Ah!" the woman jeered. "So you confess to some knowledge of it after all!"

"My dear, " he said, teasingly, "do you really want to know what has becomeof that paper?"

"I do, and mean to. "

"What if I tell you?"

Her eyes lifted to his in childlike candour. "Need you ask?"

"You are irresistible.... Ask Karl. "

She demanded sharply: "Whom?"

"Ekstrom. "

"Ah!" Again the adventuress was silent for a little. "What does he know?"

"Ask him, enquire why he murdered von Harden, then what business took himto Ninety-fifth Street twice this evening--once about nine o'clock, againat midnight. "

"You must be mad, monsieur. Karl would not dare.... "

"You don't know him--or have forgotten he was trained in the InternationalBureau of Brussels, and there learned how to sell out both parties to abusiness that won't bear publicity. "

"I wonder, " the woman mused. "Never have I wholly trusted that one. "

"Shall I give you the key?"

"If you love Karl as little as I.... "

"But where do you suppose the good man is, this night of nights?"

"Who knows? He was not here when I arrived at midnight. I have seen nothingof him since. "

"When you do--if he shows himself at all--look him over carefully for signsof wear and tear. "

"Yes, monsieur? And in what respect?"

"Look for cuts about his head and hands, possibly elsewhere. And should heconfess to an affair with a wind-shield in a motor accident, ask him whathappened to the study window in the house at Ninety-fifth Street. "

Impish glee danced in the woman's eyes. "Your handiwork, dear friend?"

"A mere beginning.... You may tell him so, if you like. "

He was subjected to a convulsive squeeze. "Never have I felt so kindlydisposed toward an enemy!"

"It is true, I were a better foe to Germany if I kept my counsel and letEkstrom continue to play double. "

The music ceasing, to be followed by the inevitable clamour for more, Lanyard offered an arm upon which Sophie rested a detaining hand. 

"No--wait. We dance this encore. I have more to say. "

He submitted amiably, the more so since not ill-pleased with himself. Andwhen again they were moving round the floor, she bore more heavily upon hisshoulder and was thoughtful longer than he had expected. Then--

"Attention, my friend. "

"I am listening, Sophie. "

"If what you hint is true--and I do not doubt it is--Karl's day is done. "

"More nearly than he dreams, " Lanyard affirmed grimly. 

"I shan't be sorry. I am German through and through; what I do, I do forthe Fatherland, and in that find absolution for many things I care not toremember. If through what you tell me I may prove Karl traitor, I owe yousomething. "

"Always it has been my fondest hope, Sophie, some day to have you in mydebt. "

Her fingers tightened on his. "Do not jest in the shadow of death. Sinceyou have been unwise enough to venture here to-night, you will not bepermitted to leave alive--unless you pledge yourself to us and prove yoursincerity by producing that paper. "

"That sounds reasonable--like Prussia. What next?"

"I have warned you, so paid off my debt. The rest is your affair. "

"Do you imagine I take this seriously?"

"It will turn out seriously for you if you do not. "

"How can I be prevented from leaving when I will, from a publicrestaurant?"

"Is it possible you don't know this place? It is maintained by theWilhelmstrasse. Attempt to leave it without coming to a satisfactoryunderstanding, and see what happens. "

"What, for instance?"

"The lights would be out before you were half across the room. When theywent up again, the Lone Wolf would be no more, and never a soul here wouldknow who stabbed him or what became of the knife. "

"Are you by any chance amusing yourself at my expense?"

Once more the woman showed him her handsome eyes: he found them franklygrave, earnest, unwavering. 

"If you will not listen, your blood be on your own head. "

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to be rude.... "

"Still, you do not believe!"

"You are wrong. I am merely amused. "

"If you understood, you could never mock your peril. "

"But I don't mock it. I am enchanted with it. I accept it, and it renewsmy youth. This might be Paris of the days when you ran with the Pack, Sophie--and I alone!"

The woman moved her pretty shoulders impatiently. "I think you are eithermad or ... The very soul of courage!"

The encore ended; they returned to the table, Sophie leaning lightly onLanyard's arm, chattering gay inconsequentialities. 

Dropping into her chair, she bent over toward Cecelia Brooke. 

"He dances adorably, my dear!" the intrigante declared. "But I dare say youknow that already. "

The English girl shook her head, smiling. "Not yet. "

"Then lose no time. You two should dance well together, for you are more ofa size. I think the next number will be a waltz. We get altogether too fewof them; these American dances, these one-steps and foxtrots, they are notdances, they are mere romps, favourites none the less. And there is alwaysmore room on the floor; so few waltz nowadays. Really, you must not missthis opportunity. "

This playful insistence, the light stress she laid upon her suggestion thatCecelia Brooke dance with him, considered in conjunction with her recentadmonition, impressed Lanyard as significantly inconsistent. Sophie was nomore a woman to make purposeless gestures than she was one sufficientlywanting in finesse to signal him by pressures of her foot. There was sheerintention in that iteration: "... _lose no time ... You must not miss thisopportunity_. " Something had happened even since their dance; she hadobserved something momentous, and was warning him to act quickly if hemeant to act at all. 

With unruffled amiability, amused, urbane, Lanyard bowed his petitionacross the table, and was rewarded by a bright nod of promise. 

Lighting another cigarette, he lounged back, poised his wine glassdelicately, with the eye of a connoisseur appraised its pale amber tint, touched it lightly to his lips, inhaling critically its bouquet, sipped, and signified approval of the vintage by sipping again: all without missingone bit of business in a scene enacted on the far side of the room, directly behind him but reflected in a mirror panel of the wall he faced. 

The diplomatist charged with the task of discriminating the sheep from thegoats in the lower lobby had come up to confer with his colleague, themaître d'hôtel of the upper storey. When Lanyard first saw the man he wasstanding by the elevator shaft, none too patiently awaiting the attentionof the other, who, caught by inadvertence at some distance, was moving tojoin him, with what speed he could manage threading the thick-set tables. 

Was this what Sophie had noticed? Had she likewise, perhaps, received somesecret signal from the guardian of the lower gateway?

A signal possibly indicating that Ekstrom had arrived

They met at last, those two, and discreetly confabulated, the maîtred'hôtel betraying welcome mitigation of that nervous tension which hadheretofore so palpably affected him; and, as the other stepped back intothe elevator, Lanyard saw this one's glance irresistibly attracted to thetable dedicated to the service of the Princess de Alavia. Something muchresembling satisfaction glimmered in the fellow's leaden eyes: it wasapparent that he anticipated early relief from a distasteful burden ofresponsibility. 

Then, at ease in the belief that he was unobserved, he turned to a near-bytable round which four sat without the solace of feminine society--fourmen whose stamp was far from reassuring despite their strikingly quietdemeanour and inconspicuously correct investiture of evening dress. 

Two were unmistakable sons of the Fatherland; all were well set up, withthe look of men who would figure to advantage in any affair calling forphysical competence and courage, from coffee and pistols at sunrise in theParc aux Princes to a battle royal in a Tenderloin dive. 

Their table commanded both ways out, by the stairs and by the elevator, much too closely for Lanyard's peace of mind. 

And more than one looked thoughtfully his way while the maître d'hôtelhovered above them, murmuring confidentially. 

Four nods sealed an understanding with him. He strutted off with far moremanner than had been his at any time since the arrival of Lanyard, andvented an excess of spirits by berating bitterly an unhappy clown of awaiter for some trivial fault. 

The first bars of another dance number sang through the confusion ofvoices: truly, as Sophie had foretold, a waltz. 

XVIII

DANSE MACABRE

Trained in the old school of the dance, Lanyard was unversed in thatgraceless scamper which to-day passes as the waltz with a generationlargely too indolent or too inept of foot to learn to dance. 

His was that flowing waltz of melting rhythm, the waltz of yesterday, that dance of dances to whose measures a civilization more sedate in itsamusements, less jealous of its time, danced, flirted, loved, and broke itshearts. 

Into the swinging movement of that antiquated waltz Lanyard fell withouta qualm of doubt, all ignorant as he was of his benighted ignorance; andinstantly, with the ease and gracious assurance of a dancer born, CeceliaBrooke adapted herself to his step and guidance, with rare pliancy made herevery movement exquisitely synchronous with his. 

No need to lead her, no need for more than the least of pressures upon heryielding waist, no need for anything but absolute surrender to the magic ofthe moment.... 

Effortless, like creatures of the music adrift upon its sounding tides, they circled the floor once, twice, and again, before reluctantly Lanyardbrought himself to shatter the spell of that enchantment. 

Looking down with an apologetic smile, he asked:

"Mademoiselle, do you know you can be an excellent actress?"

As if in resentment the girl glanced upward sharply, with clouded eyes. 

"So can most women, in emergency. "

"I mean ... I have something serious to say; nobody must guess yourthoughts. "

She said simply: "I will do my best. "

"You must--you must appear quite charmed. Also, should you catch mesmirking like an infatuated ninny, remember I am only doing my ownindifferent best to act. "

Laughter trembled deliciously in her voice: "I promise faithfully to bearin mind your heartlessness!"

"I am an ass, " he enunciated with the humility of conviction. "But thatcan't be helped. Attend to me, if you please--and do not start. This placeturns out to be a nest of Prussian spies. I was brought here by a trick. Iunderstand the order is I may not leave alive. "

Playing her part so well as almost to embarrass Lanyard himself, the girlsmiled daringly into his eyes. 

"Because of that packet?" she breathed. 

"Because of that, mademoiselle. "

"Where is it?"

For an instant Lanyard lost countenance absolutely. Through sheer goodfortune the girl was now dancing with face averted, her head so nearlytouching his shoulder that it seemed to rest upon it. 

Nevertheless, it was at cost of an heroic struggle that he fought down allsigns of that shock with which it had been borne in upon him that he darednot assure the girl her packet was in safe hands. 

If he had failed in his efforts to restore the thing to her, that she mightconsign it as she saw fit and so discharge her personal trust, till nowLanyard had solaced himself with a hazy notion that she would in turn becomforted when she learned the document was in the keeping of her country'sSecret Service. 

Impossible to tell her that: his own act had rendered it impossible, that act the outcome of wilful trifling with his infirmity, his itch forthieving. 

Of a sudden the pilfered necklace secreted in an inner pocket of hiswaistcoat, above his heart, seemed to have gained the weight of so muchlead. The hideous consciousness of the thing stung like the bite of livecoals. 

This woman was in distress; he yearned to lighten her burden; he could dothat with half a dozen words; his guilt prohibited. 

A thief!

Now indeed the Lone Wolf tasted shame and realized its bitterness.... 

Puzzled by his constraint, the girl's eyes again sought his; and warnedin time by the movement of her head, he mustered impudence to meet theirquestion with the look of tenderness that went with the rôle she sufferedhim to play. 

"What is the matter?"

"I am ashamed that I have failed you.... "

"Don't think of that. I know you did your best. Only tell me what became ofit. "

"It was stolen; when I returned to my stateroom that night I was held upand robbed. The thief shot at me, killed his confederate, decamped byway of the port. I pursued. Another aided him to overpower and cast meoverboard. "

"Yet you escaped... !"

Strange she should seem more intrigued by that than concerned about herloss!

"I escaped, no matter how.... "

"You don't know who stole the packet?"

"I don't recall the man among the passengers, but he may have been in oneof the boats, a fellow of about my stature, with a flowing beard.... "

He sketched broadly Ekstrom as he had seen him in the Stanistreet library. 

Her eyes quickened. 

"One such escaped in our boat, the second steward; I think his name wasAnderson. "

"Doubtless the same. "

"Then it is gone!"

For once in his acquaintance with her, that brave spirit seemed to falter:she became a burden, bereft for a little of all grace and spontaneity. 

He was constrained to swing her forcibly into time. 

Almost instantly she recollected herself, covered her lapse with a littlelaugh innocent of any hint of its forced falsity, and showed him and theroom as well a radiant countenance: all with such address and art that theincident might well have escaped notice, otherwise have passed for a bit ofnatural by-play. 

Yet distress was too eloquent in the broken query: "What _am_ I to do?"

Heartsick, self-sick to boot, he essayed to suggest that she consultColonel Stanistreet, but lacking so much effrontery, stammered and fellsilent. 

Perhaps misinterpreting, she cried in quick contrition: "I am forgetting!Forgive me. I should have said: what are you to do?"

He whipped his wits together. 

"Look down, turn your face aside, smile.... I have a plan, a desperateremedy, but the best I can contrive. When next the lift comes up, we musttry to be near it. There is one row of tables which we must break throughby main force. Leave that to me, follow as I clear a way, go straight intothe lift. If anything happens, run down the stairway on the left. Theground floor is two flights below. If I am any way detained, don't stop--goon, get your wraps, take the first taxi you see, return directly to theKnickerbocker. I will telephone you later. "

"If you live, " she breathed. 

"Never fear for me.... "

"But if I do? Do you imagine I could rest if I thought you had sacrificedyourself for me?"

"You must not think that. I am far too selfish--"

"That is not so. And I refuse positively to do as you wish unless you tellme how I may communicate with you. "

Resigned to humour her, he recited his address and the number of the housetelephone, and when she had memorized both by iteration, resumed:

"Once outside, if anybody tries to hinder you, don't let them intimidateyou into keeping quiet, but scream, scream at the top of your lungs. Thesebeasts abominate a screaming woman, or any other undue noise. Not only willthat frighten them off, but it will fetch the nearest policeman. "

The music ceased. She stood flushed, smiling, adorably pretty, eyesstar-like for him alone. 

"We are not far from the lift now, " she said just audibly. 

"But the door is shut. Hush. Here comes the encore. Once more around.... "

They drifted again into that witching maze of melody and movement made one. 

"You are silent, " she said, after a little. "Why?"

Lanyard answered with a warning pressure on her hand. 

The elevator was stationary at the floor, its door wide, the maître d'hôtelengaged in a far quarter of the room, while those four formidable guardiansof the exit were gossiping with animation over their glasses. 

"Steady. Now is our time. "

Abruptly they stopped. A couple that had been following them avoidedcollision by a close margin. Over his partner's head the man scowledportentously--and dissipated his display of temper on Lanyard's indifferentback. 

Upon those guests who sat between the dancing floor and elevator, Lanyardwasted no consideration. Pushing roughly between two adjoining tables, helifted one chair with its astonished occupant bodily out of the way, thenturned, swung an arm round the girl's waist, all but threw her through thelane he had created, followed without an instant's pause. 

It was all so quickly accomplished that the girl was in the car beforeanother person in the room appreciated what was happening. And Lanyard, inthe act of slamming the door shut without heed for the protesting operator, saw only a room full of amazed faces with gaping mouths and roundedeyes--and one man of the four at the near-by table in the act of risinguncertainly, with a stupefied look. 

Elbowing the boy aside, he seized the operating lever and thrust it to thenotch labelled "Descend. " An instant of pause followed: like its attendantthe elevator seemed stalled in inertia of stupefaction. 

Beyond the door somebody loosed an infuriated screech. Angry handsdrummed on the glass panel. With a premonitory shudder the car startedspasmodically, moved downward at first gently, then with greater speed, coming to an abrupt stop at the street level with a shock that all butthrew its passengers from their feet. 

Up the shaft that senseless punishment of the panel continued. Some otherintelligence conceived the notion for ringing for the car to return: itsannunciator buzzed stridently, continuously. 

Unlatching the lower door, Lanyard threw it back, stepped out, finding thelobby deserted but for a simpering group of coat-room girls, to one of whomhe flipped a silver dollar. 

"Find this lady's wraps--be quick!"

Deftly catching the coin, the girl snatched the check from Cecelia Brooke, and darted into the women's dressing room. 

Throughout a wait of agonising suspense, the elevator boy remained coweringin a corner of the car, staring at Lanyard as at some shape of terror, while the ignored buzzer droned without cessation to persistent pressurefrom above. 

Out of the dark entrance to the lower dining room the bearded diplomatistpopped with the distracted look of a jack-in-the-box about to be ravishedof its young. 

"Monsieur is not leaving?" he expostulated shrilly, darting forward. 

Lanyard stopped him with a look whose menace was like a kick. 

"I am seeing this lady to her cab, " he said in a cold and level voice. 

The coat-room girl emerged from her lair with an armful of wraps and furs. 

Again the bearded one made as if to block the doorway. 

"But, monsieur--mademoiselle--!"

Lanyard caught the fellow's arm and sent him spinning like a top. 

"Out of the way, you rat!" he snapped; then to the girl: "Be quick!"

As she shouldered into a compartment of the revolving door incoherent yellsbegan to echo down the staircase well. At length it had occurred to thoseabove to utilize that means of descent. 

Wedged in the wheeling door, a final glimpse of the lobby showed Lanyardthe startled, putty-like mask of the maître d'hôtel at the head ofthe stairway with, beyond him, the head of one who, though in shadow, uncommonly resembled Ekstrom--but Ekstrom as he was in the old days, without his beard. 

That picture passed like a flash on a cinema screen. 

They were on the sidewalk, and the girl was running toward a taxicab, theonly vehicle of its sort in sight, at the curb just above the entrance. 

Coatless and bareheaded, Lanyard swung to face the door porter, a towering, brawny animal in livery, self-confident and something more than keen tointerfere; but his mouth, opening to utter some sort of protest, shutsuddenly without articulation when Lanyard displayed for his benefit a . 22Colt's automatic. And he fell back smartly. 

Jerking open the cab door, the girl stumbled into the far corner of theseat. The motor was churning in promising fashion, the chauffeur settlinginto place at the wheel. Into his hand Lanyard thrust a ten-dollar bill. 

"The Knickerbocker, " he ordered. "Stop for nobody. If followed steer forthe nearest policeman. There'll be no change. "

He closed the door sharply, leaned over it, dropped the little pistol intothe girl's lap. 

"Chances are you won't want that--but you may. "

She bent forward quickly, eyes darkly lustrous with alarm, and placed ahand upon his arm. 

"But you?"

"It is I whom they want, not you. I won't subject you to the hazard of mycompany. "

Gently Lanyard lifted the hand from his sleeve, brushed it gallantly withhis lips, released it. 

"Good-night!" he laughed, then stepped back, waved a hand to thechauffeur--"Go!"

The taxicab shot away like a racing hound unleashed. With a sigh of reliefLanyard gave himself wholly to the question of his own salvation. 

The rank of waiting motor-cars offered no hope: all but one were privatetown cars and limousines, operated by liveried drivers. A solitary roadsterat the head of the line tempted and was rejected; even though it had noguardian chauffeur, something of which he could not be sure, he wouldbe overhauled before he could start the motor and get the knack of itsgear-shift mechanism. Even now Au Printemps was in frantic eruption, itsdoors ejecting violently a man at each wild revolution. 

Down Broadway an omnibus of the Fifth Avenue line lumbered, at no lessspeed than twenty miles an hour, without passengers and sporting anilluminated "Special" sign above the driver's seat. 

Dashing out into the roadway, Lanyard launched himself at the narrowplatform of the unwieldy vehicle and, in spite of a yell of warning fromthe guard, landed safely on the step and turned to repel boarders. 

But his manoeuvre had been executed too swiftly and unexpectedly. The groupbefore Au Printemps huddled together in ludicrous inaction, as if stunned. Then one raged through it, plying vicious elbows. As he paused against thelight Lanyard identified unmistakably the silhouette of Ekstrom. 

So that one had, after all, escaped the net of his own treachery!

The 'bus guard was shaking Lanyard's arm with an ungentle hand. 

"Here, now, you got no business boardin' a Special. "

From his pocket Lanyard whipped the first bank-note his fingersencountered. 

"Divide that with the chauffeur, " he said crisply--"tell him to drive likethe devil. It's life or death with me!"

The protruding eyeballs of the guard bore witness to the magnitude of thebribe. 

"You're on!" he breathed hoarsely, and ran forward through the body of theconveyance to advise the driver. 

Swarming up the curved stairway to the roof, Lanyard dropped into the rearseat, looking back. 

The group round the doorway was recovering from its stupefaction. Threestruck off from it toward the line of waiting cars. Of these the foremostwas Ekstrom. 

Simultaneously the 'bus, lumbering drunkenly, lurched into Columbus Circle, and the roadster left the curb carrying in addition to the driver twopassengers--Ekstrom on the running-board. 

Tardily Lanyard repented of that impulse which had moved him to bestow hisone weapon upon Cecelia Brooke. 

The night air had a biting edge. A chill rain had begun to drizzle down inminute globules of mist, which both lent each street light its individualnimbus of gold and dulled deceitfully the burnished asphaltum, renderingits surface greasy and treacherous. More than once Lanyard feared lestthe 'bus skid and overturn; and before the old red brick building betweenBroadway and Eighth Avenue shut out the western sector of the Circle, hesaw the roadster, driven insanely, shoot crabwise toward the curb, thananswer desperate work at the wheel and whirl madly, executing a volte-faceso violent that Ekstrom's hold was broken and he was hurled a dozen feetaway. And Lanyard's chances were measurably advanced by the delay requiredin order to pick up the sprawling one, start the engine anew, and turn morecautiously to resume the pursuit. 

Striking diagonally across Broadway the 'bus swung into Fifty-seventhStreet at the moment when the roadster turned the corner of ColumbusCircle. 

The head of the guard lifted above the edge of the roof. Clinging to thesupports of the stairway, he addressed Lanyard in accents of blendedsuspicion and respect. 

"Lis'n, boss: is this all right, on the level, now?"

"Absolutely, unless that racing-car catches up with us, in which caseyou'll have a dead man--myself--on your hands. "

"Well ... We don't wanna lose our jobs, that's all. "

"You won't unless I lose my life. "

"Anything you'd like me to do?"

"Go down, wait on the platform, if anybody attempts to get aboard kick himin the act. "

"Sure I will!"

The guard disappeared. 

Wallowing like a barge in a strong seaway, the omnibus crossed SeventhAvenue and sped downhill toward Sixth with dangerous momentum. Shortly, however, this began to be modified by the brakes, a precaution againstmishap which even the fugitive must approve. Ahead loomed the gauntstructure of the Sixth Avenue "L, " bridging the roadway at so low anelevation as to afford the omnibus little more than clear headroom. Oncebeneath it a single bounce up from the surface-car tracks must mean awreck. 

But the pursuit was less than half a block astern and gaining swiftly, evenas the speed of the omnibus was growing less and desperately less. 

At what seemed little better than a snail's pace it began to pass beneaththe span of the Elevated. 

Like a racing thoroughbred the roadster swept up alongside, motor chantingtriumphantly, running-board level with the platform step. 

Ekstrom, poised to leap aboard, hesitated; a pistol in his hand exploded; ashattered window fell crashing. 

There was a yell from the guard, not of pain but of fright. Apparently heexecuted a von Hindenburg retreat. Without more opposition Ekstrom gainedthe platform. 

In the same breath Lanyard stood up. The lowermost girder of the "L" wasimmediately overhead. He grasped it, doubled his legs beneath him, swungclear. The omnibus shot from under him, the roadster convoying. 

Drawing himself up, he seized a round iron upright of guard-rail and heavedhis body in over the edge of the platform round the switching-tower, whichwas at this hour dark and untenanted. 

In the street below a police whistle shrieked, and a fusillade of pistolshots woke scandalised echoes. 

Bending almost double Lanyard moved rapidly northward on the footway besidethe western tracks, and so gained the old station on the west side ofFifty-eighth Street, for years dedicated to the uses of desuetude. Throughthis he crept, then down the stairs, encountering at the lower landing aniron gate which obliged him to climb over and jump. 

Not a soul paid the least attention to this matter of a gentleman inevening dress without hat or top coat dropping from the stairway of adisused elevated station at two o'clock in the morning. 

In New York anything can happen, and most things do, without stirring upmeddlesome impulses in innocent bystanders. 

XIX

FORCE MAJEURE

This visit to his rooms was the briefest of the several Lanyard made thatnight, considerations of mortal urgency dictating its drastic abbreviation. 

If the events of the last few hours had meant anything whatever they haddemonstrated two truths which shone like beacon lights: that ManhattanIsland was overpopulated as long as both he and Ekstrom remained on it;that Ekstrom had been goaded to the verge of aberration by the discoverythat Lanyard had come safely through the _Assyrian_ débâcle to take up anewhis self-appointed office of Nemesis to the Prussian spy system in generaland to the genius of its American bureau in particular. 

Henceforth that one would know no more rest while Lanyard lived. 

Thus that little street-level apartment forfeited whatever attractions itoriginally had possessed in the adventurer's estimation. Not only was theaddress known to Ekstrom's associates, and so open to him, but its peculiarcharacteristics, its facilities for access from the street direct, renderedit a highly practicable death-trap for a hunted man. 

Lanyard was well persuaded he need only wait there long enough to receive adeputation from Seventy-ninth Street. And with any assurance that Ekstromwould come alone, he might have been content to wait. Not only had hethrough too intimate acquaintance with his methods every assurance thatEkstrom would never brave alone what he could induce another to risk withhim, but Lanyard was never one willing to play the passive part. 

A banal axiom of all warfare applied: The advantage is with him who fightsupon the offensive. 

Since midnight the offensive had shifted from Lanyard's grasp to theenemy's. He was determined to recapture it; and that was something never tobe accomplished by sitting still and waiting for events to unfold, but onlyby carrying the war into the enemy's camp. 

He delayed, then, only long enough to change his clothing and to concealabout him certain properties which it seemed unwise to expose to chancediscovery on the part of Ekstrom or in the ever-possible event of policeintervention. 

Within five minutes from the time of his return he was closing behind himthe private door. 

Wearing a quiet lounge suit but no top coat, with a hat not so soft as tolack character but soft enough to stick upon one's head in time of action, and carrying a stick neither brutishly stout nor ineffectively slender, he strolled up to Seventh Avenue, turned north, entered Central Park--andstrolled no more. 

Kindly shadows enfolded him, engulfed him altogether. One minute after hehad passed through the gateway he would have defied unaided apprehensionby the most zealous officer of the peace. He went swiftly and secretly, avoiding all lighted ways. 

Not till then did conscience stir and remind him of his slighted promise tocall up Cecelia Brooke. 

No time now for that; the errand that engaged him was of a nature to brookno more procrastination. The girl must wait. He was sorry if, as she hadprotested, solicitude for his welfare must interfere with her night's rest. But what must be, must: until he saw the end of this adventure he could beinfluenced by no minor consideration whatsoever. 

Not that he seriously believed Cecelia's sleep would be uneasy because ofhim. That was too much. 

His temper was grim and skeptical. The resentment roused by the trap thathad so nearly laid him by the heels, together with the subsequent effort toassassinate him out of hand, had settled into a phase of smouldering furywhose heat consumed like misty vapours every lesser emotion, every humaneconsideration. 

Some by-thought recalling the Weringrode's innuendo that he was in lovewithout his knowledge, moved him to laugh outright if strangely, anunpleasant laugh that held as much of pain as of derision. 

What room in that dark heart of his for love?... The heart of a thief and apotential assassin, the heart of the Lone Wolf!... 

How was he to know he had hardly left his lodgings before their hush wasinterrupted by the grumble of the house telephone?

Intermittently for upward of three minutes that sound persisted. Whenat length it discontinued the quiet of the untenanted rooms reignedundisturbed for a brief time only. 

An odd metallic stridor became audible, a succession of scrapings ofstealthy accent at the private entrance. Its latch clicked. The door swungback against the wall with a muffled bump. Two pairs of furtive feet paddedin the little private hallway. The flash of an electric hand-lamp flickeredhither and yon like a searching poignard, picked out the door to the onebedchamber and vanished. There was guarded whispering, then a thud as oneof the intruders gained the middle of the bedchamber in a bound. An instantlater a switch snapped, and the room was flooded with light. 

Beneath the chandelier stood a man in evening dress the worse formisadventure, one knee of his trousers cut open, both legs caked witha film of half-dry mud, his linen dingy with mud-stains, his top coatshockingly bedraggled. He was bareheaded, apparently having lost his hat; ablack smear across one cheek added emphasis to the pallor of newly shavenjowls; and his eyes were blazing. 

"Stole away!" he muttered briefly in disgust, then called: "Ed!"

As quietly as a shadow a second man joined him, greeting him with a "Hush!"

This gentleman was in far more presentable repair and a more equable frameof mind. There was even a glint of amusement in his hard blue eyes. Hiscountenance had an Irish cast. 

"Hush?" the other iterated with contempt. "What for? The hound's not here. "

"No, Karl, " Ed admitted; "but there are others in the house. If it's knownto them that Lanyard's out, they may turn in a police alarm; and I for onehave had enough of bulls for one night. "

Karl grunted disdainfully. "I told you this would be a waste of time.... "

"And I agreed with you entirely. But you would come. "

"Lanyard's no such fool as to stick round a place he knows I know about. "Karl's hands twitched and his features worked nervously. "He knows me toowell, knows that if ever I lay hands on him again--"

His voice was rising to an hysterical pitch when the other checked him witha sibilant hiss. At the same time his hand darted out and switched off thelight. Karl uttered a startled ejaculation. 

"_Sssh_!" his companion repeated. 

In the street a motor-car was rumbling, stationary before the door. Thenthe remote grinding of the house door-bell was heard. 

"Let's get out of this, " suggested the Irishman. "It's no good waiting, anyway. "

"Hold hard! We won't go till we have a clear field. "

The Prussian stole out into the sitting room and stood listening at thedoor to the public hallway, his companion standing by with a mutinous air. 

"Oh, come along!" he insisted, in a stage whisper. 

"Shut up! Listen.... "

Shuffling footfalls traversed the hallway. The front door was opened. Theclear voice of an Englishwoman was answered in the slurring patois of anegro. 

"No'm, he ain't in. "

The next enquiry was intelligible: the speaker had entered the hallway. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yas'm. Sumbody done call him up 'bout ten min'tes ago, an' I rung an' rungan' he don' answer. He ain't in or he don' mean to answer nobody, tha'sall. "

"I am very anxious about him. Have you a key to his rooms?"

"Yas'm, I got a pass-key, but--"

"Please use it. Take this. Go in and make sure he is out, or if at homethat he is all right. "

"Yas'm, thanky ma'am, but--"

"Do as I tell you. I will see that you don't get into trouble. "

"All right, ma'am. " The negro chuckled, probably over his tip. "Yo' sho'has got the p'suadin'est way.... "

The Irishman caught the German's arm. "Come out of this, " he pleaded. 

"No fear. I'll see it through. That's the Brooke girl the fool got in withon the boat. She may know something.... "

"But--"

"Leave this to me. You look out for the negro. I'll take care of MissCecelia Brooke. "

Swearing unhappily, the Irishman flattened against the wall to one side ofthe door. Karl waited behind it as it admitted the hall attendant, who madedirectly toward the central chandelier. 

"Yo' jes' wait, ma'am, an' I'll mek a light an'--"

But the girl had impetuously followed him in. 

The light went up, and Karl put a heavy shoulder against the door, closingit with a slam. The negro turned and stood with gaping mouth and staringeyes, dumb with terror. The girl recognised Karl with a little cry, anddarted back toward the door. Immediately he caught her in his arms. Herlips opened, but their utterance was stifled by a handkerchief thrustbetween them with the dexterity of a practised hand. 

Without one word of warning the Irishman stepped forward and struck thenegro brutally in the face. The boy reeled, whimpering. Two more blowsdelivered with murderous ferocity silenced him altogether. He collapsedlike a broken puppet, insensible on the floor, his face a curious ashencolour beneath its glossy skin of brown. 

XX

RIPOSTE

The drizzle had grown thicker, the night blacker, the early morning airstill more chill. But Lanyard was moving too swiftly to be affected bythis last circumstance; the first he anathematised with the perfunctorybitterness of a skilled artisan who sees his work in a fair way to beobstructed by elemental depravity. Another of his trade would have termedsuch weather conditions ideal, and so might the Lone Wolf on an everydayjob; but the prospect of a footing rendered insecure by rain trebled thehazards attending a plan of campaign that would brook neither revision nordelay. 

There was only one way to break into the house on Seventy-ninth Street;this Lanyard had appreciated upon his first reconnaissance of the previousafternoon. He could have wished for more time in which to prepare andassemble tested equipment instead of relying upon chance to supplythe requisite gear; but with all time at his disposal the mechanicaldifficulties of the problem would remain. Far from indifferent to these, Lanyard addressed himself to their conquest doggedly and with businesslikeeconomy of motion. 

Shunning the public paths he went over the park wall like a cat, spedacross town through Eightieth Street, and so came to that plot of land uponwhich an apartment building was in process of erection, immediately to thenorth of the American headquarters of the Prussian spy system. 

Walled in with stone two storeys deep, its gaunt skeleton of steel hadbeen joined together as far as the seventh level. How much higher it wasdestined to rise was immaterial; for Lanyard's purpose it was enough thatthe frame had already outgrown its neighbour on the south. 

A litter of lumber, huge steel girders, and other material narrowed theside street to half its normal width. The sidewalk space was trampled earthroofed with heavy planks for the protection of pedestrian heads, a passagelighted by electric bulbs widely spaced; midway in this an entrance tothe structure was flanked by a wooden shanty, by day a tool house, afterworking hours a shelter for the night watchman. This boasted one glazedwindow dull with orange light. 

Approaching with due precaution, Lanyard peered in. The light came from asingle electric bulb and a potbellied sheet-iron stove, glowing red. Nearby, in a chair tipped against the wall, sat the watchman, corncob pipein hand, head drooping, eyes closed, mouth ajar. A snore of the firstmagnitude seemed to vibrate the very walls. On the floor beside the chairstood a two-quart tin pail full of arid emptiness. 

Dismissing further consideration of the watchman as a factor, satisfiedthat the entire neighbourhood as well was sound asleep, Lanyard darted upthe plank walk that led into the building, then paused to get his bearings. 

Effluvia of mortar and damp lumber saluted him in an uncanny place whosedarkness was slightly qualified by a faint refracted glow from the lowcanopy of cloud and by equally dim shafts of diffused street light. Therewas more or less flooring of a temporary character over a sable gulf ofcellars, and overhead a sullen, weeping sky cross-hatched with stark blackironwork. 

With infinite patience Lanyard groped his way through that dark labyrinthto the foot of a ladder ascending an open shaft wherein a hoisting tackledangled. 

Here he stumbled over what he had been seeking, a great coil of one-inchhempen cable, from which he measured off roughly what he would require, ifhis calculations were correct, and something over. This length he re-coiledand slung over his shoulder: an awkward, weighty handicap. Nevertheless hebegan to climb. 

Above the third level there was merely steel framework; he had somewhatmore light to guide him, with a view of the north wall of the Seventy-ninthStreet house, bright in the glare of avenue lamps. 

The wall was absolutely blank. 

At the seventh level the ladders ended. He stepped off upon a foot-widebeam, paused to make sure of his poise, and began to walk the girders witha sureness of foot any aviator might have envied. 

At regular intervals he encountered uprights: between these he had todepend upon his sense of direction and equilibrium to guide him safelyacross those narrow walks of steel made slippery by rain. 

But, thanks to forethought, his footwork was faultless: he wore shoes old, well-broken, very soft, flexible, and silent. 

The building was in the shape of a squat E, with two courts facing south. On this seventh level the first court was bridged by a single girder, themiddle of which was Lanyard's immediate objective. Since it lacked uprightshe took it cautiously on hands and knees until approximately equidistantfrom both ends, when he straddled it, took the cable from his shoulders, uncoiled a length and made it fast round the girder with a clove hitch:giddy work, in that darkness, on that greasy span, fashioning by simplesense of touch the knot upon which his life was to depend, half of the timeprone upon the girder and fishing blindly beneath it for the rope's end, with nothing but a seventy--foot drop between him and eternity, not evenanother girder to break a fall.... 

He was now immediately opposite the minaret, at an elevation of abouttwenty feet above the roof he wished to reach, and as far away, or perhapsa trifle farther. 

Still he detected no signs of life about that nest of spies: if thewireless were in operation its apparatus was well-housed; there was nosound of the spark, never a glimmer of its violet flash. 

Laboriously--the knot completed to his satisfaction--Lanyard returned viathe eastern arm of the E, paying out the coiled cable as he progressed, working round to the north side of the court. 

Once again pausing opposite the minaret, he knotted the end of the cableloosely round an upright connecting with the sixth level, let it slidedown, followed it, repeated the process, and rested finally on the fifth. 

Now his ordeal approached a climax which he contemplated with what calmnesshe could while securing the rope beneath the arms. 

In another sixty seconds or less it must be demonstrated whether his deadreckoning would set him down safe and sound on the roof or dash him againstthe walls of the Seventy-ninth Street house, to swing back and dangleimpotently in mid-air till daylight and police discovered him--unless, escaping injury, he were able to pull himself up hand over hand to thegirder. 

With one arm round the upright to prevent the sag of rope from dragging himover prematurely, he essayed a final survey. 

Either the murk deceived or Lanyard had judged shrewdly. His feet were onan approximate level with the coping round the roof, and he stood about asfar from the upper girder to which the rope was hitched as that was distantfrom the coping. 

One look up and round at those louring skies, duskily flushed by subduedcity lights: with no more ceremony Lanyard released the upright andcommitted his body to space. 

If the downward sweep was breathless, what followed was breath-taking:once past the nadir of that giant swing, he was borne upward by an impetussteadily and sensibly slackening. 

Instant followed leaden-winged instant while the wall, looming likea mountainside, seemed to be toppling, insensately bent upon hisannihilation; even so his momentum, decreasing with frightful swiftness, seemed possessed of demoniac desire to frustrate him. 

After an age-long agony of doubt it became evident he was not destinedto crash into the wall, but not that he was to gain the coping: throughfractions of a second hideously protracted this last drew near, nearer, slowly, ever more slowly. 

And he was twisting dizzily.... 

With frantic effort he crooked an arm over the coping at a juncture when, had he not acted instantly, he must have swung back. There was a rackingwrench, as though his arm were being torn from its socket. 

At the end of a struggle even more wearing he flung his other arm acrossthe ledge, and for some time hung there, at the end of an almost taut rope, unable to overcome its resistance and pull himself in over the coping, stubbornly refusing to loose his grasp. 

Presently, grown desperate, he let go with his right hand, holding fastonly with the left, fumbled in a pocket, found his knife, opened it withhis teeth, and began, to saw at the rope round his chest. 

Strand after strand parted grudgingly till it fell away altogether andreaction from its tension threw him against the coping with such violencethat he all but lost his hold. Dropping the knife, he swept his right armup and once more hooked his fingers over the inside of the ledge. 

Far down the knife clinked suggestively upon stone. 

Breathing deep, Lanyard braced knees and feet against the wall, worried, heaved, hauled, squirmed like a mad thing, in the end rolled over the topand fell at length upon the roof, panting, trembling, bathed in sweat, temporarily tormented by impulses to retch. 

By degrees regaining physical control, he sat up, took his bearings, andcrept toward the foot of the minaret. 

A small, narrow doorway in its base was on the latch. He passed through tothe landing of a dark winding stairway with a dim light at the bottom ofits circular well. 

While he stood attentive, intermittent stridor troubled the stillness, originating at some point on the floors below: the proscribed wireless wasat work. 

Hearing no other sounds, Lanyard went on down the steps, at their footpausing to spy out through a half-open doorway to the topmost storey. 

Nobody moved in the corridor. He saw nothing but a line of closed doors, presumably to servants' quarters. Now, however, the vibrant rasp of theradio spark was perceptibly stronger and had a background of subdued noise, echoes of distant voices, deadened sounds of hasty footfalls, now and againa heavy thump or the bang of a door. 

Moving out, he commanded the length of the corridor. Toward one end a doorstood open. He could see no more of the room beyond than a narrow patch ofwall fitfully illuminated by a play of violet light. 

Then a man stepped out of this operating room, turning on the threshold toutter some parting observation; and Lanyard retired hastily to the shaft ofthe minaret stairway, but not before recognising Velasco. 

A moment later the Brazilian passed his lurking-place, walking with bendedhead, a worried frown darkening his swarthy countenance; and Lanyardemerged in time to see his head and shoulders vanish down a stairway at thefar end of the corridor. 

Following with discretion, Lanyard leaned over the head of the mainstaircase well, looking down three flights to the ground floor, to whichVelasco was descending. 

The house seemed veritably to hum with secret and, to judge by the pitch ofits rumour, well-nigh panic activity. One divined a scurrying as ofrats about to desert a sinking ship. Untoward events had thrown thisestablishment into a state of excited confusion: their nature Lanyard couldnot surmise, but their conjunction with his designs was exasperatinglyinopportune. To search this place and find his man--if he were there atall--without being discovered, while its inmates buzzed about like so manystartled hornets, was a fair impossibility; to attempt it was to courtdeath. 

None the less he was inflexible in determination to go on, to push his luckto its extremity, by sheer force to bend fortuity to his service and sufferwithout complaint whatever the consequences of its recoil. 

Yet even as he advanced a foot to begin the descent, he withdrew it. 

On the ground floor, a door closing with a resounding crash had proved thesignal for an outburst of expostulant, acrimonious voices: some half adozen men giving angry tongue at one and the same time, their roars ofpolysyllabic gutturalisms fusing into utterly unintelligible clamour. 

One thought of a mutiny in a German madhouse. 

Moment after moment passed, the squall persisting with unmitigatedviciousness. If now and again it subsided momentarily, it was only intouglier growls and swiftly to rise once more to high frenzy of incoherence. 

Two of the disputants appeared in the square frame of the staircase well, oddly foreshortened figures brandishing wild arms, one of them Velasco, theother a man whom Lanyard failed to identify, seemingly united in commonanger directed at the head of some person invisible. 

Abruptly, with a gesture of almost homicidal fury, the Brazilian darted outof sight. The other followed. 

Then the object of their wrath took to the stairs, stopping at the railof the first landing and gesticulating savagely over the heads of hisaudience, Velasco and the others returning amid a knot of fellows to bayround the newel post. 

His voice, full-throated, cried them all down--Ekstrom's deep and resonantvoice, domineering over the uproar, hectoring one after another into sullensilence. 

In the beginning employing nothing but terms and phrases of insolence andobjurgation untranslatable, when he had secured a measure of attention hedelivered a short address in tones of unqualified contempt. 

"I will have obedience!" he stormed. "Let no one misunderstand my statushere: I am come direct from His Majesty the Emperor with full power andauthority to command and direct affairs which you have, individually, collectively, proved yourselves either unfit or unable to cope with. What Ido, I do in my absolute discretion, with the full sanction and confidenceof the Kaiser. He who questions my judgment or my actions, questions thewisdom of the All-Highest. Let it be clearly understood I am answerableto no one under God but myself and my Imperial master. Henceforth be goodenough to hold your tongues or take the consequences--and be damned to youall!"

Briefly he stood glowering down at their upturned faces, then sneered, andturned away. 

"Come along, O'Reilly, " he said. "Fetch the woman, and give no more heed toswine-dogs!"

His hand slipped up the rail to the first floor, vanished. 

If O'Reilly followed with the woman mentioned, both kept back from the railand so out of Lanyard's field of vision. 

The group at the foot of the stairs moved away, grumbling profanely. 

At once Lanyard began to descend, rapidly and without care to avoiddetection. 

One flight down he met face to face a manservant, evidently a footman, withan armful of clothing which he was conveying from one chamber to another. The fellow stopped short, jaw dropping, eyes popping; whereupon Lanyardpaused and addressed him in German with a manner of overbearing contempt, that is to say, in character. 

"You're wanted upstairs in the radio room, " he said--"at once!"

The servant bleated one word of protest: "But--!"

"Be silent. Do as I bid you. It is an emergency. Drop those things and go!Do you hear, imbecile?"

Completely cowed and cheated, the man obeyed literally, letting his burdenof garments fall to the floor and bounding hurriedly up the stairs. 

Another flight was negotiated without misadventure; on this floor as wellservants were flitting busily to and fro, but none favoured the adventurerwith the least attention. 

Midway down the third flight he pulled up to one side of the landing, andreconnoitred. It was on the next floor below, the first above the street, that Ekstrom had stopped. But in what quarter thereof? The exigency forbadethe risk of one false turn. If Lanyard were to take Ekstrom unawares itmust be at the first cast. 

From the ground floor came semi-coherent snatches of surly comment, likegrowls of a thunderstorm passing off into the distance:

"_At a time such as this_.... "

"... _Secret Service snapping at our heels_ ... "

"... _base on the Vineyard discovered_ ... "

"... _Au Printemps raided, Sophie Weringrode under arrest. God knowswhether she will hold her tongue_!"

"_Trust her! But this ass_ ... "

"_Bringing a woman here, putting all our necks into a halter_ ... "

Immediately opposite the foot of the stairway, on the first storey, a dooropened. O'Reilly came alertly forth, closed the door behind him, paused, fished in his pocket for a cigarette case, lighted and inhaled with deepappreciation, meantime eavesdropping on the utterances below with his headcocked to one side and a malicious smile shadowing his handsome Irish face. 

In his own good time he shrugged an indifferent shoulder, thrust his handsinto his pockets, and sauntered coolly on down the stairs. 

The moment he disappeared, Lanyard went into action, in two bounds clearedlanding and stairs, in another threw himself upon the door. It openedreadily. Entering, he put his back to it, with his left hand groped for, found and turned a key, his right holding ready the automatic pistol he hadtaken from the lockers of the U-boat. 

The room was a combination of administrative bureau and study, veryhandsomely if somewhat over-decorated and furnished, with an atmosphere asdistinctively German as that of a Bierstube, the sombreness of its colourscheme lending weight to its array of massive desks, tables, chairs, bookcases, and lounges. 

Between great draped windows and an impressive chimney-piece opposite, beside a broad, long desk, in a straight-backed chair sat a woman, gagged, bound as to her wrists, strips of cloth which had but lately bound anklesas well on the floor about her feet. 

That woman was Cecelia Brooke. 

Ekstrom stood behind her, in the act of loosening the knots which held thegag secure. 

For a space of thirty seconds, transfixed by the apparition of his enemy, he did not stir other than to raise weaponless hands in deference to thepistol trained upon his head. But the blood ebbed from his face, leavingit a ghastly mask in which shone the eyes of a man who sees certain deathclosing in upon him and is powerless to combat it, even to die fighting forlife. And his lips curled back in a snarl neither of contempt nor of hatredbut of terror. 

And for as long Lanyard remained as motionless, rooted in a despondencyof thwarted hopes no less profound than the despair of the Prussian, apprehending what that one could not yet guess, that once more, and nowcertainly for the last time, vengeance was denied him, the fulfilment ofall his labours and their sole purpose snatched from his grasp. 

The instincts of a killer were not his. Barring injudicious attempt tosummon aid or take the offensive, Ekstrom was safe from injury at the handsof Michael Lanyard. His cunning, his favour in the countenance of fortune, or whatever it was that had enabled him to make the girl his prisoner andbring her here, bade fair to prove his salvation. 

Deep in Lanyard's consciousness an echo stirred of half-forgotten words:"_Vengeance is mine_.... "

The sense of frustration brewed a hopelessness as stark as that of abrow-beaten child. A blackness seemed to be settling down upon hisfaculties. A mist wavered momentarily before his eyes. He gulpedconvulsively, swallowing what had almost been a sob. 

But he spoke in a voice positively dispassionate. 

"Keep your hands up. "

Lanyard removed and pocketed the key, crossed to the middle of the roomwithout once letting his gaze waver from the face of the Prussian, passed behind him, planted the muzzle of the pistol beneath Ekstrom'sshoulder-blade, and methodically searched him, finding and putting aside onthe desk one automatic, nothing else. 

"Stand aside!"

The almost puerile measure of his disappointment was betrayed in the thrustwith which he shouldered Ekstrom out of the way, so forcibly that the manwas sent staggering wildly half a dozen paces. 

"Don't move, assassin!... Pardon, mademoiselle: one moment, " Lanyardmuttered, with his one free hand undoing the gag. 

He made slow work of that, fumbling while watching Ekstrom with unremittingintentness, hoping against hope that his enemy might make one false move, one only, by some infatuate endeavour to turn the tables excuse hiskilling. 

But Ekstrom would not. Recovery of his equilibrium had been coincident withthe shock administered to his hardihood and sense of security by Lanyard'sentrance. He stood now in a pose of insouciant grace, hands idly claspedbefore him, disdain glimmering in languid-lidded eyes, contempt in the setof his lips--an ensemble eloquent of brazen effrontery, the outgrowth ofperception of the fact that Lanyard, being what he was, could neither shoothim down in cold blood nor, with the Brooke girl present, even attempt toinjure him: compunctions unassembled in the make-up of the Boche, thereforewhen discovered in men of other races at once despicable and ridiculous.... 

The gag came away. 

"Mademoiselle has not been injured?" Lanyard enquired, solicitous. 

The girl coughed and gasped, shaking her head, enunciating with difficultyin little better than a husky whisper: "... Roughly handled, nothingworse. "

Lanyard's face burned as if his blood were molten mercury. "_Nothingworse_!" Appreciation of what handling she must have suffered, if she hadresisted at all, before those beasts could have bound her, excited anindignation from whose light, as it blazed in Lanyard's eyes, even Ekstromwinced. 

The hand was tremulous with which he sought to loose her wrists, so much sothat she could not but notice. 

"Don't mind me--look to that man!" she begged. "Leave me to unfasten thesewith my teeth. He can't be trusted for a single instant. "

"Mademoiselle, " Lanyard mumbled, instinctively employing the Frenchidiom--"you have reason. "

For an instant only he hesitated, swayed this way and that by the maddestof impulses, then resigned himself absolutely to their ascendancy. 

"This goes beyond all bounds, " he said in an undertone. 

Deliberately leaving the Englishwoman to free herself according to hersuggestion--forgetful, indeed, for the moment, that she was not altogetherfree--he moved to the desk and left his own automatic there besideEkstrom's. 

"Mademoiselle, " he said mechanically, without looking at the girl, withoutpower to perceive aught else in the world but the white, evil face of hisenemy, "for what I am about to do, I beg you forgive me, of your charity. Ican endure no more. It is too much.... "

He strode past her. 

She twisted in her chair, then rose, following him with wide eyes of alarmabove her hands, whose bonds her teeth worried without rest. 

Ekstrom had not stirred, though one flash of pure exultation hadtransfigured his countenance on comprehension of Lanyard's purpose: thanksto the silly scruples of this animal, one more chance for life was grantedhim. 

Nor would the Prussian give an inch when Lanyard paused, confronting himsquarely, within arm's length. 

"Ekstrom, " the adventurer began in a voice lacking perceptible inflection... "what is between you and me needs no recounting. You know it toowell--I likewise. It is my wish and my intention to kill you with mytwo hands. Nothing can prevent that, not even what you count upon, myreluctance--to you incomprehensible--to commit an act of violence in thepresence of a woman. But because Miss Brooke is here, because you havebrought her here by force, because you are what you are and so have treatedher insolently ... Before we come to our final accounting, you shall getdown upon your knees and ask her pardon. "

He saw no yielding in the eyes of the Prussian, only arrogance; and when hepaused, he was answered in one phrase of the gutters of Berlin, couched inthe imagery of its lowest boozing-kens, so unspeakably vile in essenceand application that Lanyard heard it with an incredulity almoststupefying--almost, not altogether. 

It was barely spoken when those lips that framed it were crushed by a blowof such lightning delivery that, though he must have been prepared for it, Ekstrom's guard was still lowered as he reeled back, lost footing, and wentto his knees. 

Panting, snarling, uttering teeth and blasphemy, the Prussian recoiled likea serpent, gathered himself together and launched headlong at Lanyard, onlyto be met full tilt by a second blow and a third, each more merciless thanits predecessor, beating him down once more. 

This time Lanyard did not wait for him to come back for punishment, butclosed in, catching him as he strove to rise, meeting each fresh effortwith ruthless accuracy, battering him into insanity of despair, so thatEkstrom came back again and again without thought, animated only byfrenzied brute instinct to find the throat of his tormenter, and ever andever failing; till at length he crumpled and lay crushed and writhing, thensubsided into insensibility, was quite still but for heaving lungs and thespasmodic clutchings of his broken and ensanguined fingers.... 

With a start, a broken sigh, a slight movement of the hand interpreting acrushing sense of the futility of human passion, Lanyard relaxed, drew backfrom standing over his antagonist, abstractedly found a handkerchief anddried his hands, of a sudden so inexpressibly shamed and degraded in hisown sight that he dared not look the girl's way, but stood with hang-dogair, avoiding her regard. 

Yet, could he have mustered up heart, he might have surprised in her eyesa light to lift him out from this slough of humiliation, to obliteratechagrin in a flood of wonder and--misgivings. 

When, however, he did after a moment turn to her, that look was gone, replaced by one that reflected something of his own apprehension; for aheavy hand was hammering on the study door, and more than one voice on theother side was calling on "Karl" to open. 

Either the servant whom Lanyard had met and victimised on his waydownstairs had given the alarm, or else the noise of the encounter withinthe study had brought that pack of spies to the door, wildly demandingadmission. 

Steadied by one swift exchange of alarmed glances with the girl, Lanyardhastily reviewed the room, seeking some avenue of escape. None offered butthe windows. He ran to them, tore back their draperies, and found themclosed with shutters of steel and padlocked. 

Simultaneously the din at the door redoubled. 

With a worried shake Lanyard crossed to the chimney-piece, ducked his head, and stepped into its huge fireplace. One upward glance sufficed to dash hishopes: here was no way out, arduous though feasible; immediately above thefireplace the flue narrowed so that not even the most active man of normalstature might hope to negotiate its ascent. 

He returned with only a gesture of disconcertion to answer the girl's lookof appeal. 

"Can we do nothing?" she asked, raising her voice a trifle to make it heardabove the tumult in the corridor. 

"There's no help for it, I'm afraid, " he said, going to the desk and takingup the pistols--"nothing to do but shoot our way out, if we can. Takethis, " he added, offering her one of the weapons, which she acceptedwithout spirit. "If you can't get your own consent to use it, give it to mewhen I've emptied the other. "

She breathed a dismayed "Yes ... " and wonderingly consulted his face, sincehe did not stir other than thoughtfully to replace his pistol on the desk, then stood staring at his soot-smeared palms. 

"What is it?" she demanded nervously. "Why do you hesitate?"

As one fretted by inconsequential questions, he merely shook his head, glancing sidelong once at the unconscious Prussian, again with calculationtoward the door. 

This he saw quivering under repeated blows. 

With brusque decision he said: "Get a chair--brace it beneath thedoor-knob, please!"--and leaving her without more explanation turned backto the fireplace. 

Motionless, in dumb confusion, the girl stood staring after him till rousedby a blow of such splintering force as to suggest that an axe had beenbrought into play upon the door, then ran to a ponderous club chair andwith considerable exertion managed to trundle it to the door and tip itover, wedging its back beneath the knob. 

By this time it had become indisputably patent that an axe was batteringthe panels. But the door, in character with the room, was a substantialpiece of workmanship and needed more than a few blows, even of an axe, tobreak down its barrier of solid oak. 

She looked round to discover Lanyard kneeling beside Ekstrom, insanely--soit seemed to the girl--engaged in blackening the upper half of the man'sface with a handful of soot. 

Unconsciously uttering a little cry of distress she sped to his side andcaught his shoulder with an importunate hand. 

"In Heaven's name, Monsieur Duchemin, what are you doing? Is this a timefor childishness--?"

He responded with a smile of boyish mischief so genuine that her doubts ofhis reason seemed all too well confirmed. 

"Making up my understudy, " he said simply. And brushing his hands over therug to rid them of superfluous soot, Lanyard rose. "Please go back andstand by the door--on the side of the hinges. I'll be with you in oneminute. "

Resigned to humour this lunatic whim--what else could she do?--the girlretreated to the position designated, and watched with ever darker doubtsof his sanity, while Lanyard hurriedly drew the shells from his automaticand carefully placed its butt in the slack grasp of Ekstrom's fingers. 

Then, lifting from a near-by table a great cut-glass bowl of flowers, theadventurer inverted it over Ekstrom's body. 

Expending its full force upon the man's chest, that miniature delugesplashed widely, wetting his face, half filling his open mouth. Some ofthe soot was washed away, but not a great deal: enough stuck fast to suitLanyard's purpose. 

Roused by that cool shock, half strangled as well, Ekstrom coughedviolently, squirmed, spat out a mouthful of water, and lifted on an elbow, still more than half dazed. 

Joining the girl by the door, Lanyard saw the Prussian sit up and glareblankly round the room, a figure of tragic fun, drenched, woefullydisfigured, eyes rolling wildly in the wide spaces round them which Lanyardhad left unblackened. 

Swinging the club chair away from the door, the adventurer placed it withits back to the room. 

"Get down behind that, " he indicated shortly, and drew the key from hispocket. "Don't show yourself for your life. And let me have that pistol, please. "

A bright triangular wedge of steel broke through one of the panels as hefitted and turned the key in the lock. 

His wits clearing, Ekstrom saw him and with a howl of fury staggered to hisfeet, clutching the unloaded pistol and endeavouring to level it for steadyaim. 

Simultaneously Lanyard turned the knob and let the door fly open, remainingbeside the chair that hid the girl. 

A knot of spies, O'Reilly and Velasco among them, whirled into the room, pulled up at sight of that strange, grim figure, disguised beyond allrecognition by its half-mask of black, facing and menacing them with apistol. 

O'Reilly fired in the next breath, his shot echoed by half a dozen soclosely bunched as to resemble the rattle of a mitrailleuse. 

At the first report the pistol dropped from Ekstrom's grasp. He carried ahand vaguely to his throat, staggered a single step, uttered a strangledmoan, and fell forward, his body fairly riddled, his death little short ofinstantaneous. 

While the fusillade was still resounding Lanyard, seizing the girl's wrist, unceremoniously dragged her from behind the chair and thrust her throughthe door, retreating after her with his face to the roomfull, his pistolready. 

None of that lot paid him any heed, the attention of all wholly absorbed bythe tragedy their violent hands had wrought. Velasco, the first to stir, ran forward and dropped to his knees beside the dead man. Others followed. 

Gently Lanyard drew the door to, locked it on the outside, and at the soundof a choking cry from Cecelia Brooke, whirled smartly round, prepared ifneed be to make good his promise to clear with gun-play a way to the streetthough opposed by every inmate of the establishment. 

But the first face he saw was Crane's. 

The Secret Service man stood within a yard. To him as to a rock of refugeCecelia Brooke had flown, to his hand she was clinging like a frightenedchild, trying to speak, failing because she choked on sobs and gasps ofhorror. 

Behind him, on the landing at the head of the staircase, running up frombelow, ascending to the upper storeys, were a score' or more of men ofsturdy and business-like bearing and indubitably American stamp. Ofthese two were herding into a corner a little group of frightened Germanservants. 

Lanyard's stare of astonishment was met by Crane's twisted smile. 

"My friend, " he said, as quietly as anyone could with his accent of aquizzical buzz-saw, "I sure got to hand it to you. Every time I try to pullanything off on the dead quiet you beat me to it clean. Everywhere I thinkyou ain't and can't be, that's just where you are. But I ain't complaining;I got to admit, if you hadn't staged your act to occupy the minds of thosegents in there, we might've had a lot more difficulty raiding this joint. "

Quickly he wound an arm round the waist of Cecelia Brooke when, withoutwarning, she swayed blindly and would have fallen. 

"Here, now!" he protested. "That's no way to do.... Why, she's flickeredout! Well, Monsieur Duchemin-Lanyard-Ember, to a man up a tree this lookslike your job. You take this little lady off my hands and see her home, andI'll just naturally try and finish what I started--or what you did. For, son, I got to give you credit: you sure are one grand li'l trouble-hound!"

XXI

QUESTION

Through the breathing hush of that dark hour which foreruns the dawn, thathour in which the head that knows a wakeful pillow is prone to suddenand disquieting apprehension of its insignificance and it's soul's dreadisolation, the cab sped swiftly south upon the Avenue, shadowed reaches ofthe park upon its right, upon its left the dull, tired faces of those homeswhose tenants lay wrapped in the cotton-wool of riches. 

The rain had ceased. A little wind was blowing up. There was a freshsmell in the air. Sidewalks began to be maculated with spreading areas ofdryness, but the roadway was still wet and shining, the wide black mirrorof a myriad lights. 

Through the windows of the speeding cab an orderly procession of streetlamps, marching past, threw each its fugitive and pallid glimmer. Periodsof modified darkness intervened, when the face of the girl in her cornerseemed a vision subtle and wraithlike. But ever the recurrent lightsrevealed her sweetly incarnate if deep in enervation of crushing weariness. 

Once she stirred and sighed profoundly; and Lanyard, bending toward her, asked if he could be in any way of service. 

She replied in an undertone scarcely better than a whisper: "Thank you, Iam quite comfortable.... Please--what time is it?"

The cab was passing Sixtieth Street. Lanyard caught a fleeting glimpse of astreet clock with a dial like a little golden moon. 

"It's just four. "

"Thank you.... "

"Very tired?"

"Very.... "

He had the maddest notion that her head inclined to droop toward hisshoulder. Perhaps the motion of the cab.... If so, she recovered easily. 

"Can I do anything?"

"No, thank you, only ... " An ungloved hand stirred from her lap and forthe merest instant rested lightly above his own, or hovered rather, barelytouching it with a touch tenuous and elusive, no sooner realised than gone. "I mean, " she murmured, "I am a bit too overwrought, too tired, to talk. "

"I quite understand, " he said. "Please forget I'm here; just rest. "

Perhaps she smiled drowsily. Or was that, too, a freak of his imagination?Lanyard assured himself it was, in excess of consideration even tried topersuade himself he had dreamed that ghost of a caress upon his hand. Itseemed so little like her. 

Not that anything had happened more than a gesture of transientinadvertence due to fatigue. It could not have been intentional, that actof intimacy, when the girl was altogether engrossed in young Thackeray. 

There was something one must not forget, something that gave the lie flatlyto that innuendo of the Weringrode's. Ignorant of the circumstances theintrigante had leaped blindly at conclusions, after the habit of her kind. 

True, Sophie had not implied that this girl cared for him, but vice versa:either supposition, however, was as absurd as the other. As if Lanyardcould love a woman who loved another! As if the name of love meant aughtto him but the memory of a sweetness like a vagrant air of Spring that hadbreathed fitfully for a season upon the Winter of his heart!

A corner of Lanyard's mouth lifted in a sneer. That precious heart ofhis! the heart of a thief upon which even now the fruits of his thievingweighed.... 

Irritated, he wrenched his thoughts into another channel, and began topiece together inconsecutive snatches of information gained from Cranein the confusion of the quarter hour just past, while the Secret Serviceoperatives were busy rounding up the inmates of that spy-fold and searchingfor evidences of their impudent activities. 

It appeared that Washington had at length, however tardily, roused out ofits inertia and at midnight had telegraphed instructions to arrest outof hand every enemy alien in the land against whom there was evidence ofconspiracy or even a ponderable suspicion. 

So unexpected was this order that Crane had volunteered to show CeceliaBrooke that midnight rendezvous of the Prussian spy system without theleast notion that he might be required before morning to lead a raidingforce against the establishment; and even when a messenger stopped him ashe turned to enter Au Printemps, he was not advised concerning the cause ofthis demand for his immediate presence at headquarters. 

The first cast of what Crane aptly termed the dragnet had brought in themanagement and service staff to a man, with a number of the restaurant'shabitues, including Sophie Weringrode and her errand-boy, the exquisite Mr. Revel. 

Velasco, however, had somehow mysteriously managed to slip through themeshes and had straightway hastened to spread the alarm. 

As for O'Reilly and Dressier, they had left with Ekstrom in pursuit ofLanyard less than five minutes before, and so had escaped not only arrestbut all knowledge of the raid prior to their return to Seventy-ninthStreet. 

The second cast of the net had been made at the latter place as soon asthe watchers were able to assure Crane that Ekstrom and O'Reilly hadreturned--Dressier having anticipated them there by something like half anhour. 

By daybreak, then, these gentry would be interned on Ellis Island.... 

And break of day impended visibly in grayish shades that stole westwardthrough the cross-town streets like clouds of secret agents spying out thecity against invasion by the serried lances of the sun. 

A garish twilight washed Forty-second Street from wall to wall by the timethe car swung round in front of the Knickerbocker. As yet, however, therewas little evidence that the town was growing restive in its sleep withpremonition of the ardour of another day. 

Lanyard stepped down and offered the girl a hand in whose palm her slenderfingers rested lightly for an instant ere she passed on, while he turned tobid the driver wait. Following, he overtook her in the entrance, where bytacit consent both paused and lingered in an odd constraint. There was somuch to be said that was impossible to say just then. 

Visibly the woman drooped, betraying physical exhaustion in every line ofher pose, seeming scarcely strong enough to lift the silken lashes thattrembled upon cheeks a little drawn and pale, with the faintest of bluishrings beneath the eyes. 

"I must not keep you, " Lanyard broke the silence. "I merely wished to saygood-night and ... I am sorry. "

"Sorry?" she echoed. 

"That you had such an unhappy experience, " he explained--"thanks to yourthoughtfulness for me. I do not deserve so much consideration; and thatonly makes me feel all the more regretful. "

"It was silly of me, " she admitted with a shadowy, rueful smile. "I'mafraid my silliness makes too much trouble.... "

He commented honestly: "I don't understand. "

"If I had only been patient enough to wait for you to call me.... "

"Forgive that oversight. I was pressed for time, as you may imagine. "

"Oh, it all comes back to my own stupidity. I might have known you had comethrough all right. "

"How should you?"

"Why not?--when you turn up here in New York safe and sound after beingdrowned on the _Assyrian_!--as if that were not proof enough that you beara charmed life!"

"Charmed!" he laughed. 

"And you haven't yet told me how you survived that adventure. "

"You are kind to be interested, and I am unfortunate in never seeing yousave under circumstances unfavourable for yarn-spinning. "

"You might be more fortunate. "

"Only tell me how!"

"If you cared to ask me to dine with you to-morrow--I mean, to-night--"

"You would--?"

He was distressed by consciousness that his voice had thrilled impetuously. But perhaps she had not noticed; there was no change in the evenfriendliness of her tone. 

"I'm as inquisitive as any woman that ever lived. Even if I wished to, I'mafraid I shouldn't be able to resist an invitation to hear your Odyssey. "

"Delmonico's at eight?"

"Thank you, " she said primly. 

"You make me too happy. May I call for you?"

"Please. " She offered a hand whose touch he found cool, steady, andimpersonal. "Good morning, Mr. Ember. "

He stood in a stare while she went quickly through the lobby to a waitingelevator, then roused and went back to his cab. 

It was by daylight that he reentered his rooms and found them tenanted bya negro boy bound and gagged, bruised and sore, and scared beyondintelligible expression. 

Freeing him and salving his injuries bodily and spiritual with a liberaldouceur, Lanyard exacted an oath of silence, then turned him out. 

He had approximately five hours to put in somehow before his appointmentwith Colonel Stanistreet at nine, and was too well versed in the lore oflate hours to think of giving any part of that time to sleep. By so doinghe would only insure a mutinous awakening, with mind and body sluggish andunrested. If, on the other hand, he remained awake, he would go to thatinterview in a state of supernormal animation exceedingly to be desired ifhe were to round out this adventure without discredit. 

For its end was not yet. He had still a part to play whose lines were notyet written, whose business remained to be invented. He neither daredshirk that appointment, for reasons of policy, nor wished to, while thereremained reparation to be accomplished, a wrong to be righted, justice tobe done, a question to be answered. 

Only when these matters had been put in order would he feel his honourdischarged of its burdens, himself free once more to drop out and go inpeace his lonely ways in life, ways henceforth to be both lonely andaimless. 

For, when he strove to peer into the future, only an emptiness confrontedhim. With Ekstrom accounted for finally and forevermore, there was nothingto come but the final accounting of the Lone Wolf with that civilizationwhich had bred and suffered him. 

One way presented itself to make that reckoning even. The Foreign Legion ofFrance asks no embarrassing questions of its recruits, and enlistment inits ranks offers with anonymity a consoling certainty. 

Thus alone might he find his way home to the heart of that enigma whence hehad emerged, a nameless waif astray in grim Parisian by-ways.... 

This vision of his end contenting him, he began to scheme a campaignfor the day that was simple enough in prospect: a little chicanery withStanistreet, a personal appeal to Crane to restore the passports ofMonsieur André Duchemin which must have been found on Ekstrom's body, aberth on some steamer sailing for Europe, then the last evanishment. 

One detail alone troubled him, his promise to the Brooke girl that sheshould dine with him that night. 

Reminded of this obligation, figuratively he seized Michael Lanyard by thescruff of his neck and shook him with a savage hand. What insensate follywas ever his, what want of wit and strength to keep out of temptation'sways! Why must he have fallen in so readily with her suggestion? Why thisinfatuate thirst for sympathy, this eagerness to violate the seals ofreticence at the wish of a strange woman? Was there any reasonableexplanation of the strange lack of his wonted self-sufficiency in thecompany of Cecelia Brooke?

No matter. If he might not contrive somehow to squirm out of thatengagement, he could at all events school himself to decent reticence. Hepromised himself to make his account of the submarine adventure drearilybald and trite, to minimize to the last degree his part therein, above allthings to refrain from painting the Lone Wolf in romantic colours. 

She was much too good a sort, too straight, sincere, fair-minded, honest--the sort of girl who deserved the Thackeray sort of man, never athief. 

If she even dreamed.... 

Lanyard brought forth from its hiding place the necklace, weighed it inhis hand, examined it minutely. Granting its marvellous perfection, herecognized no more its beauty, dispassionately reviewed in turn each stoneof matchless loveliness, no more susceptible to their seductive purity, perceiving in them nothing but hard, bright, translucent pebbles, cold, soulless, cruel. 

One by one they slipped through his fingers like beads of an unholy rosary. 

At length, crushing them together in the hollow of his palm, he stood awhile in thought, then turning to his writing-desk bundled the necklace inwrappings of white tissue secured with rubber bands, counted carefully thesheaf of bills he had taken from Ekstrom, sealed the whole amount in aplain, long envelope, and put this aside in company with the necklace. 

Already two hours had passed and, since he meant to call at the house onWest End Avenue well in advance of the hour when Cecelia Brooke might bethere--presuming Blensop to have given her the same appointment as he hadgiven "Mr. Ember, " that is, nine o'clock--it was now time to prepare. 

Returning to his bedchamber, he laid out a carefully selected change ofclothing, shaved, parboiled himself in a hot bath, chilled him to thepith in one of icy coldness, and dressed with scrupulous heed to detail, studiously effacing every sign of his sleepless night. 

That experience was in no way to be surmised from his appearance when hesallied forth to breakfast at the Plaza. 

At eight precisely, presenting himself at the Stanistreet residence, hedesired the footman to announce him as the author of a certain telegramfrom Edgartown. 

He was obliged to wait less than a minute, the footman returning in hasteto request him to step into the library. 

This apartment--which he found much as he had last seen it, eight hoursago, its window shattered, the portières down, the furniture in somedisorder--was, on his introduction, occupied by two persons, one anelderly, iron-gray gentleman of untidy dress and unobtrusive habit in spiteof a discerning cool, gray eye, the other Mr. Blensop in the neatest ofone-button morning-coat effects, with striped trouserings neither too smartnor too sober for that state of life unto which it had pleased God to callhim, and fair white spats. 

If his attire was radiant, so was the temper of the secretary sunny. Hetripped forward in sprightliest fashion, offering cordial hands to thecaller till he recognized him, and even then was discountenanced only forthe briefest moment. 

"My dear Mr. Ember!" he purred soothingly--"why didn't you tell me lastnight it was you who had sent that telegram? If I had for a momentsuspected the truth you should have had your appointment with ColonelStanistreet at any hour you might have cared to name, no matter howungodly!"

Lanyard bowed gravely. "Thank you, " he said. "And Colonel Stanistreet--?"

"Is just finishing breakfast. He will be down directly. Please be seated, make yourself entirely at ease. And will you excuse me--?"

"With pleasure, " Lanyard assured him, his gravity unbroken. 

A doubt clouded Mr. Blensop's bright eyes, but its transit wasinstantaneous. He turned forthwith to join the iron-gray man before theportrait which concealed the safe. 

"And now, Mr. Stone, " said Mr. Blensop, with indulgence. 

"Well, sir, " said Mr. Stone quietly, "if you'll be good enough to show mehow this contraption works, maybe I'll find out something interesting, maybe not. "

Mr. Blensop proceeded to oblige by operating the lever and sliding asidethe portrait. 

"Thanks, " said Mr. Stone, producing a magnifying glass from a waistcoatpocket and beginning to peer myopically at the face of the safe. "I takeit nobody's been pawing over this since the late, as you might say, unpleasantness?"

"Not a soul has touched it. By Colonel Stanistreet's order it was coveredas soon as we found it had been tampered with. "

"_Um-m_, " Mr. Stone acknowledged, bending close to his work. 

Partially, perhaps, by way of administering an urbane rebuke to Lanyard forhis readiness to dispense with his society, Mr. Blensop remained inthe neighbourhood of Mr. Stone, hovering round him like a domesticatedhumming-bird. 

"Do you find anything?" he enquired, when Stone straightened up. 

"Fingerprints a-plenty, " Mr. Stone admitted with a hint of temper--"a slewof the damn things. Looks like you must've called in the neighbours to helpmake a good show. However, we'll see what we can make of 'em. "

He conjured from some recess in his clothing a squat bottle, from another astopper in which was fitted a blowpipe, joined the two together, approachedthe safe with one end of the pipe between his lips and sprayed it with athin film of white powder, the contents of the bottle. 

"I say, do tell me what that's for?"

"That, " said Mr. Stone patiently, "is to make the fingerprints stand out, so we can get a good likeness of 'em. "

He put the bottle aside, blinked at the safe approvingly, and by furtherexercise of powers of legerdemain materialized a pocket kodak and aflashlight pistol. 

"Can't I help you?" Blensop offered eagerly. "I used to be rather a dab atamateur photography, you know. "

"Well, I'm kind of stuck on pressing the button myself, " Stone confessed, adjusting the focus. "But if you want to work that flashlight, I don'tmind. "

"Delighted, " Mr. Blensop asserted. "How does it go, now?"

"Like this. " Stone set his camera down to demonstrate. "Now just standbehind me, " he concluded, "and pull the trigger when I say 'now'. "

"I'll do my best, but--I say--will it bang?"

Stone had taken up the camera once more. His sole answer was a grunt uponwhich his hearers placed two distinct interpretations--Lanyard's affordinghim considerable gratification. 

"If you're ready, " said Stone--"_now_"

Mr. Blensop squinted unbecomingly and pressed the trigger. A vivid flarelifted from the pan of the pistol, and winked out in a cloud of vapour, slowly dissipating. 

"Is that all?"

"Yes, sir--that's all of that. " Stone stowed the camera away about hisperson and from another cranny produced a small cardboard box of glassslides, one of which he offered. "Now if you'll just run your fingersthrough your hair and rest them on this slide, light but steady.... "

"What for?" Blensop demanded with a giggle of nervous reluctance. "Youdon't think I'm the thief, do you?"

"No, sir, I don't. But if I haven't got your fingerprints, how am I goingto tell them from the thief's?"

"Oh, I see, " Blensop said with a note of allayed apprehension, and puthimself on record. 

The door opening to admit Colonel Stanistreet, Lanyard rose. At sight ofhim the Englishman checked and stared enquiringly, his eyes shadowed bycareworn brows; for it was apparent that, if the events of the night hadnot depressed the spirits of the secretary, his employer had known littlesleep or none since the burglary. 

"Colonel Stanistreet, " Blensop said melodiously, abandoning Stone to hisunsupervised devices, "this is Mr. Ember, the gentleman who called lastnight before you got home. It appears he is the person who sent us thattelegram from Edgartown day before yesterday. "

"Indeed? Ember is not the name with which the message was signed. "

"The message was purposely left unsigned, " Lanyard explained. 

Stanistreet nodded approval. "I am glad to meet you, Mr. Ember, " he said, offering a hand. "Be seated. I am most anxious first to express ourgratitude, next to learn how you came by your information. "

"You will find it an interesting story. "

"No doubt of that. " Stanistreet took the desk chair, opened a cigarhumidor, and offered it. "I shall be even more interested, however, " hesaid with an evanescent trace of humour, "to know who the devil you are, sir. "

"That is something I am prepared to prove to your satisfaction. "

"If you will be so good.... But excuse me for one moment. " Stanistreetturned in his chair. "Mr. Stone?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Have you finished with the safe? If so, I want my secretary to check overits contents carefully and make sure nothing else is missing. "

"I'm all through with it, Colonel Stanistreet. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to mouse around and see if I can nose out anything else that'suseful. "

"That shall be entirely as you will. Now, Blensop"--Stanistreet nodded tothe secretary--"let us make certain.... "

"Yes, sir. "

Blithely Mr. Blensop addressed himself to the safe. 

"There has been an accident of some sort, Colonel Stanistreet?" Lanyardenquired civilly, nodding toward the shattered French window. 

"A burglary, sir. "

"The criminal escaped--?"

Stanistreet nodded. "Our watchman surprised him, and was shot for hispains--not seriously, I'm happy to say. The burglar got himself tangledup in that window, but extricated in time, and went over the garden wallbefore we could determine which way he had taken. "

"I trust you lost nothing of value?"

Stanistreet shrugged. "Unhappily, we did--a diamond necklace, the propertyof my sister-in-law, and--ah--a document we could ill afford to partwith.... But you offered to show me credentials, I believe. "

"Such as they are, " Lanyard replied. "My passports and letters were stolenfrom me. But these, I think, should serve as well to prove my bona fides. "

He laid out in order upon the desk his plunder from the safe aboard theU-boat--all but the money--the three cipher codes, the log, the diaryof the commander, the directory of German secret agents, and such otherdocuments as he had selected. 

The first Colonel Stanistreet took up with a dubious frown which swiftlylightened, yielding, as he pursued his examination into the papers andbegan to recognize their surpassing value to the Allied cause, to a subduedglimmer of gratulatory excitement. 

But he was at pains to satisfy himself as to the authenticity of each paperin turn, providing a lull for which Lanyard was not ungrateful since itgave him a chance to adjust his understanding to an unexpected developmentin the affair. 

He lounged at ease, smoking, his eyes, half-veiled by lowered lids, keenlyreviewing the room and its tenants. 

Stone, the detective (an operative, Lanyard rightly inferred, of theAmerican Secret Service, loaned to the British in order to keep theburglary out of police records and newspapers), had wandered out into thegarden that glowed with young April sunlight beyond the windows. Fromtime to time he was to be seen stooping and inspecting the earth with thegravity of an earnest, efficient, sober-sided sleuth of the old school. 

Blensop was busy before the safe, extracting the contents of eachpigeonhole in turn, thumbing its dockets of papers, checking each off upona typewritten list several pages in length. 

To that lithe and debonair figure Lanyard's gaze oftenest reverted. 

So not only had the necklace been stolen but "a document" which the BritishSecret Service "could ill afford to part with"!

Lanyard entertained no least doubt as to the identity of the document inquestion. There could be but one, he felt, which Stanistreet would socharacterize. 

That document had not been in the safe when Lanyard had opened it atmidnight. 

After a moment Mr. Blensop uttered a musical note of vexation. The lead ofhis pencil had broken. He threw it pettishly aside, came over to the desk, took up a penholder, dipped it in the ink-well, and returned to his task. 

XXII

CHICANE

Colonel Stanistreet put down the last of the papers and slapped his handupon it resoundingly. 

"This is one of the most remarkable collections of data, I venture toassert, that has ever come into the hands of the British Government. Haveyou any idea of its value?"

Lanyard lifted a whimsical eyebrow. "Some, " he admitted drily. 

"And what do you ask for it, sir?"

"Nothing. "

The gaze of the Englishman bored into his eyes; but he met their challengewith an unshaken countenance, smiling. 

"My dear sir, " Stanistreet demanded--"who are you?"

"The name under which I sailed for New York on board the _Assyrian_, "Lanyard announced quietly, "was André Duchemin. "

Disturbed by a startled exclamation, together with a sound of shuffling anda slight thump, he looked round in mild curiosity to see Blensop staggeredand astare, standing over a litter of documents which had slipped from hisgrasp to the floor. Mastering his emotion quickly enough, the secretaryknelt with a mumbled apology and began to pick up the papers. 

With no more notice of the incident Lanyard returned undivided attention toColonel Stanistreet. 

"I had another name, " he confessed, "and a reputation none too savoury, as, I daresay, you know. Through the courtesy of the British IntelligenceOffice I was permitted to disguise these; but on the _Assyrian_ I wasrecognized--in short, ran afoul of German Secret Service agents who knewme, but whom I did not know. On the sixth night out circumstances conspiredto make me seem a serious obstacle to their schemes. Consequently I waswaylaid, robbed, and thrown overboard. Within the next few minutes atorpedo struck the ship and the submarine which fired it came up under meas I struggled to keep afloat. By passing myself off as a Boche spy, Isucceeded in inducing the commander to take me below, and so reached theMartha's Vineyard base. There chance played into my hands: I contrived tosink the U-boat and escape, as reported in my telegram. "

During a brief silence he found opportunity to observe that Mr. Blensop wasworking with hands that trembled singularly. 

"Incredible!" Stanistreet commented. 

"Yet here is proof, " Lanyard asserted, indicating the papers beneathStanistreet's hand. 

"My dear sir, I didn't mean--"

"Pardon!" Lanyard smiled, with a lifted hand. "I never thought you did, Colonel Stanistreet. But it is your duty to make sure you are not imposedupon by plausible adventurers. Therefore--since my papers have beenstolen--I am glad to be able to prove my identity with André Duchemin byreferring to survivors of the _Assyrian_ disaster, among others Mr. Sherry, the second officer, Mr. Crane of the United States Secret Service, and acountrywoman of yours, a Miss Cecelia Brooke, whose acquaintance I wasfortunate enough to make. "

Stanistreet nodded heavily, and consulted his watch. "Miss Brooke, " hesaid, "should be here shortly. Blensop made an appointment with her lastnight, which I confirmed by telephone this morning. "

"Then, with permission, I shall remain and ask her to vouch for me, "Lanyard suggested in resignation, since it appeared he was not to bepermitted to escape this girl, that destiny was not yet finished with theirentanglement. 

"I shall be glad if you will, sir.... Monsieur Duchemin, " Stanistreetbegan, but hesitated--"or do you prefer another style?"

"I am content with Duchemin. "

"That is a matter for your own discretion, but I should warn you it mayalready have acquired an evil odour on this side. To my knowledge it hasbeen used within the last twenty-four hours, and the pretensions of itswearer supported by your stolen credentials. "

"I am not surprised, " Lanyard stated reflectively. "A chap with a beard, perhaps?"

"Why, yes.... "

"Anderson, " the adventurer nodded: "that, at least, was his alias when hejockeyed himself into the second steward's berth aboard the _Assyrian_. "

He glanced idly across the room, discovered Blensop once more at pause in astare, and grinned amiably. 

"He came here last night, " Stanistreet volunteered deliberately--"representing himself as André Duchemin--to sell me a certain paper, thesame which subsequently, I am convinced, he returned to steal. "

"And did, " Lanyard added. 

"And did, " the Briton conceded. "Now you have told me who he is, I promiseyou every effort shall be made to apprehend him and prevent further misuseof the name you have assumed. "

"It has, " Lanyard said tersely. 

"I beg your pardon?"

"I say every effort has been made--and successfully--to accomplish the endsyou mention. "

"What's that you say?" Blensop demanded shrilly, crossing to the desk. 

"My secretary, " Stanistreet explained, "was present at the interview, andis naturally interested. "

"And very good of him, I'm sure, " Lanyard agreed. "I was about to explain, Mr. Blensop, that Ekstrom, alias Anderson, was killed in the course ofa raid on the Prussian spy headquarters in Seventy-ninth Street thismorning. "

"Amazing!" Blensop gasped. "I am glad to hear it, " he added, and wentslowly back to his task. 

"I may as well tell you, sir, " Lanyard pursued, "I have every reason tobelieve the document sold you last night was one of those stolen from me. "

Stanistreet wagged a contentious head. 

"I cannot conceive how it could have come into your possession, sir. "

"Simply enough. Miss Brooke requested me to take care of it for her. "

The eyes of the Englishman grew stony. "Miss Brooke!" he repeated testily. "I don't understand. "

"It was a document--I do not seek to know its nature from you, sir--ofvital importance in this present crisis, with the United States newlyentered into the war. "

Stanistreet affirmed with an inclination of his head. 

"I may tell you this much, Monsieur Duchemin: if it had not reached thiscountry safely.... What am I saying? If it be not recovered without delay, the chances of America's early and efficient participation in the war willsuffer a tremendous setback ... Blensop, be good enough to call up theAmerican Secret Service at once and ask whether the document in questionwas found on the body of this--ah--Ekstrom. "

"Pardon, " Lanyard interposed as Blensop hesitantly approached thetelephone. "It would be a waste of time. I happen to know, because I wasthere, that no such document was found on Ekstrom's body. "

"The devil!" Stanistreet grumbled. "What can have become of it? Thisbusiness grows only the blacker the deeper one seeks to fathom it. Imust own myself completely at a loss. How it came into the hands of MissBrooke--"

"I can explain that, I think. The document was in the care of twogentlemen, Mr. Bartholomew and Lieutenant Thackeray. The former wasmurdered by the Huns in search of it, Lieutenant Thackeray murderouslyassaulted. But for Miss Brooke's intervention the assassins must havesucceeded. As it was, the young woman herself found it and, one presumes, took charge of it because her fiancé was incapacitated, and possibly withthe notion that she might thereby prevent further mischief of the samenature. "

"Her fiancé?" Stanistreet echoed blankly. 

"Lieutenant Thackeray--"

"Her brother, sir!" the Briton laughed. "Thackeray was his nom de service. "

It was Lanyard's turn to stare. "Ah!" he murmured. "A light begins todawn.... "

"Upon me as well, " Stanistreet confessed. "Miss Brooke and her brother areorphans and, before the war, were inseparable companions. I do not doubtthat, learning he had been commissioned with an uncommonly perilous errand, she booked passage by the _Assyrian_ without his consent, in order to benear him in event of danger. "

"This explains much, " Lanyard conceded--"much that perplexed more than onecan say. "

"But in no way advances us on the trail of the purloined document. "

"I am afraid, sir, " Lanyard lied deliberately, "you may as well abandon allhope of ever seeing it again. Ekstrom made away with it: no question aboutthat. There was time enough and to spare between his exploit here and hisdeath for him to deliver it to safe hands. It is doubtless decoded by thistime, a copy of it already well on the way to the Wilhelmstrasse. "

"I am afraid, " Stanistreet echoed--"I am very much afraid you are right. "

His thick, spatulate fingers of an executive drummed heavily upon the desk. 

Stone's figure darkened the windows. 

"Colonel Stanistreet?" he called diffidently. 

"Yes, Mr. Stone?"

"There's something here I'd like to consult you about, sir, if you canspare a minute. "

"Certainly. " The Englishman rose. "If you will excuse me, MonsieurDuchemin.... " Half way to the windows he hesitated. "By the bye, Blensop, Iwish you'd call up Apthorp and ask after Howson's condition. "

"Very good, sir, " Blensop intoned cheerfully. 

"And do it without delay, please. I don't like to think of the poor fellowsuffering. "

"Immediately, sir. "

As his employer passed out into the garden with Stone, the secretarydiscontinued his checking and came over to the desk, drawing up a chair andsitting down to telephone. At the same time Lanyard got up and began topace thoughtfully to and fro. 

"Howson is the wounded night watchman, I take it, Mr. Blensop?"

"Yes--an excellent fellow.... Schuyler nine, three hundred, " Blensop cooedinto the transmitter. 

Conceivably that ostensible discomfiture whose symptoms Lanyard hadremarked had been a transitory humour. Mr. Blensop was now in what seemedthe most equable and blithe of tempers. His very posture at the telephoneeloquently betokened as much: he had thrown himself into the chair withpicturesque nonchalance, sitting with body half turned from the desk, hisright hand holding the receiver to his ear, his left thrust carelesslyinto his trouser pocket, thus dragging back the lapel of that impeccablemorning-coat and exposing the bright cap of his gold-mounted fountain pen. 

Something in that implement seemed to possess for Lanyard overpoweringfascination. His gaze yearned for it, returned again and again to it. 

He changed his course to stroll up and down behind Blensop, between him andthe safe. 

"I understood Colonel Stanistreet to say the watchman was not seriouslyinjured, I believe, " he observed, with interest. 

"Shot through the shoulder, that is all.... Schuyler nine, three hundred?Dr. Apthorp, please. This is Mr. Blensop speaking, secretary to ColonelStanistreet.... Are you there, Dr. Apthorp?"

With professional dexterity Lanyard en passant dropped a hand over theyoung man's shoulder and lightly lifted the pen from its place in thepocket of Blensop's waistcoat; the even tempo of his step unbroken, hetossed it toward the safe, where it fell without sound upon a heavy Persianrug. 

"Yes--about Howson, " the musical accents continued, "Colonel Stanistreet ismost solicitous.... "

Swiftly Lanyard moved toward the safe, glanced through the French windowsto assure himself that Stanistreet and Stone were safely preoccupied, whipped out the envelope he had prepared, and thrust it into a file ofpapers which did not crowd its pigeonhole; accomplishing the completemanoeuvre with such adroitness that, like the business of the pen, itpassed utterly without the knowledge of the secretary. 

"Thank you so much. _Good_ morning, Dr. Apthorp. "

Lanyard was passing the desk when Blensop rose, and the footman wasentering with his salver. 

"A lady to see Colonel Stanistreet, sir--by appointment, she says. "

Blensop glanced at the card. At the same time Stanistreet came in from thegarden, leaving Stone to potter about visibly in the distance. 

"Miss Brooke is here, sir, " the secretary announced. 

"Ask her to come in, please. "

The footman retired. 

"Howson is resting easily, Dr. Apthorp reports, " Blensop added, going backto the safe. "Has Stone turned up anything of interest, sir?"

"Footprints, " Stanistreet replied with a snort of moderate impatience. "He's quite upset since I've informed him the man who made them is--"

"_Good God_!"

The interruption was Blensop's in a voice strangely out of tune. Stanistreet wheeled sharply upon him. 

"What the deuce--!" he snapped. 

By every indication the secretary had suffered the most severe shock of hisexperience. His face was ghastly, his eyes vacant; his knees shook beneathhim; one hand pressed convulsively the bosom of his waistcoat. Hisendeavours to reply evoked only a husky, rattling sound. 

"What the devil has come over you?" Stanistreet insisted. 

The rattle became articulate: "I've lost it! It's gone!"

"What have you lost?"

"N-nothing, sir. That is--I mean to say--my fountain pen. "

"The way you take it, I should say you'd lost your head, " Stanistreetcommented. "You must have dropped the thing somewhere. Look about, see ifyou can't find it. "

Thus admonished, the secretary began to search the floor with franticglances, and as the footman ushered in Cecelia Brooke, Lanyard saw theyoung man dart forward and retrieve the pen with a start of relief wellnighas unmanning as the shock of loss had seemed. 

With that Lanyard's interest in the fellow waned; he was too poor a thingto consider seriously; while here was one who compelled anew, as ever whenthey met, the homage of sincere and marvelling admiration. 

Yet another of those miracles of feminine adaptability and makeshift hadbrought the girl to this meeting in the guise of one who had never known abroken night or an hour's care, with a look of such fresh tranquility thatit seemed hardly possible she could be one and the same with that wiltedlittle woman whom Lanyard had left in the gray dawn at the entrance to theHotel Knickerbocker. A tailored suit, necessarily borrowed plumage, becameher so completely that it was difficult to believe it not her own. Her eyeswere calm and sweet with candour; her colour was a clear and artless glow;the hand she offered the Briton was tremorless. 

"Colonel Stanistreet?"

"I am he, Miss Brooke. It is kind of you to call so early to relieve mymind about your brother. I have known Lionel so long.... "

"He is resting easily, " said the girl. "His complete recovery is merely amatter of time and nursing. "

"That is good news, " said Stanistreet. "Monsieur Duchemin I believe youknow. "

"I have been fortunate in that at least. "

Gravely Lanyard saluted the hand extended to him in turn. "Mademoiselle ismost gracious, " he said humbly. 

"Then--I understand--Monsieur Duchemin must have told you--?" The girladdressed Stanistreet. 

"Permit me to leave you--" Lanyard interposed. 

"No, " she begged--"please not! I've nothing to say that you may not hear. You have been too much involved--"

"If mademoiselle insists, " Lanyard demurred. "I feel it is not right Ishould stay. And yet--if you will indulge me--I should like very much todemonstrate the truth of an old saw.... "

Two confused looks were his response. 

"I fear I, for one, do not follow, " Stanistreet admitted. 

"I will explain quite briefly, " Lanyard promised. "The adage I have in mindis as old as human wit: Set a thief to catch a thief. And the last time itwas quoted in my hearing, it was not to my advantage. I recall, indeed, resenting it enormously. "

He paused with purpose, looking down at the desk. A pad of blank papercaught his eye. He took it up and examined it with an abstracted manner. 

"Well, monsieur: the application of your adage?"

"Colonel Stanistreet, what would you think if I were to tell you thecombination of your safe?"

"I should be inclined to suspect that you were the devil, " Stanistreetchuckled. 

"By all accounts a gentleman of intelligence: one is flattered.... Verywell: I proceed to demonstrate black art with the aid of this whitepaper pad. The combination, monsieur, is as follows: nine, twenty-seven, eighteen, thirty-six. "

A low cry of bewilderment greeted this announcement. Blensop had drawn nearand was eyeing Lanyard as if under the influence of hypnotism. 

"How--how do you know that?" he asked in a broken voice. 

"Clairvoyance, Mr. Blensop. I seem to see, as I hold this pad, somebodywriting upon it the combination for the information of another who had noright to have it--somebody using a pencil with a hard lead, Mr. Blensop;which was very foolish of him, since it made a distinct impression on theunder sheet. So you see my magic is rather colourless, after all.... Now, a wiser man, Mr. Blensop, would have used a pen, a fountain pen bypreference, with a soft gold nib, well broken. That would leave noimpression. If you will lend me the beautiful pen I observe in your pocket, I will give a further demonstration. "

The eyes of the secretary shifted wildly. He hesitated, moistening dry lipswith the tip of a nervous tongue. 

"And don't try to get out of it, Mr. Blensop, because I am armed and don'tmean to let you escape. Besides, that good Mr. Stone patrols the garden. "Lanyard's tone changed to one of command. "That pen, monsieur!"

Blensop's hand faltered to his waistcoat pocket, hesitated, withdrew, andfeebly extended the pen. 

"I think you _are_ the devil, " he stammered in an under-tone--"the devilhimself!"

Deftly unscrewing the pen-point, Lanyard inverted the barrel above thedesk. 

The cylinder of paper dropped out. 

"And now, Colonel Stanistreet, if you will call Mr. Stone and have thistraitor removed.... "

XXIII

AMNESTY

When Stanistreet had gone out in company with Stone, and the broken, weeping Blensop, ending a scene indescribably painful, a lull almost asuncomfortable to Lanyard ensued. 

Then--"How did you guess?" Cecelia Brooke asked in wonder. 

Discountenanced by the admiration glowing in her eyes, Lanyard stoodfumbling with the disjointed members of Blensop's pen. 

"Do not give me too much credit, " he depreciated: "anybody acquainted withthat roll of paper could have guessed that an empty fountain pen wouldfurnish an ideal place of concealment for it. Moreover, just before youcame in, that traitor missed his pen, and his consternation betrayed himbeyond more doubt to one whose distrust was already astir. As for theother, it was true: Blensop did write down the combination on this pad, using a pencil with a hard lead; the marks are very plain. "

"But for whose use?"

"Ekstrom--Anderson--was here last night, and saw Blensop alone. ColonelStanistreet was not at home. Knowing what we know now, that Blensop wasa creature of the German system here, bought body, soul, and consciencethrough its studied pandering to his vices, we know he could not well haverefused to surrender the combination on demand. "

"Still I fail to understand.... "

"Ekstrom, being Ekstrom, could not resist the opportunity to play double. Here was a property he could sell to England at a stiff price. Why notdespoil the enemy, put the money in pocket, then return, steal the paperanew for the use of Germany, and collect the stipulated reward from thatsource? But he reckoned without Blensop's avarice, there; he showed Blensoptoo plainly the way to profit through betraying both parties to a bargain;Blensop saw no reason why he should not play the game that Ekstrom played. So he stole it for himself, to sell to Germany, but being a poor, witlessfool, lacking Ekstrom's dash and audacity, was foredoomed to failure andexposure. "

The girl continued to eye him steadfastly, and he as steadfastly to evadeher direct gaze. 

"Nothing that you tell me detracts from the wonder of your guessing soaccurately, " she insisted. "Now I know what Mr. Crane said of you was true, that you are one of the most extraordinary of men. "

"He was too kind when he said that, " Lanyard protested wretchedly. "It isnot true. If you must know.... "

"Well, Monsieur Lanyard?"

Her tone was that of a light-hearted girl, arch with provocation. Of asudden Lanyard understood that he might no longer stop here alone with her. 

"If you will be a little indulgent with me, " he suggested, "I will try toexplain what I mean. "

"And how indulgent, monsieur?"

"I have a whim to take the air in this garden. Will you accompany me?"

"Why not?"

As she led the way through the French windows, he noted with deepermisgivings how her action matched the temper of her voice, how she seemedto-day more deliciously alive and happier than any common mortal. 

So light her heart! And all since she had found him here!

At his wits' ends, he conceded now what he had so long denied. With all herwit and wisdom, with all her charm of beauty, winsomeness, and breeding, with all her ingrained love of truth and honesty, she was no more thanNature had meant her to be, a woman with woman's weakness for the manshe must admire. She liked him, divined in him latent qualities somehowexcellent. Something in him worked upon her imagination, something, nodoubt, in the overcoloured, romantic yarns current about the Lone Wolf, and so had touched her heart. She liked him too well already, and she waswilling to like him better. 

But that must never be. He must rend ruthlessly apart this illusion ofromance with which she chose to transfigure the prowling parasite of night, the sneaking thief.... 

The garden was sweet with the bright promise of Spring. A few weeks more, and its formal walks would wend a riot of flowers. Now its sunlight madeamends for what it lacked in beauty of growing things; and its air was warmand fragrant and still in the shelter of the red-brick walls. 

Midway down that walk, by the side of which a thief had skulked nine hoursago, near that door whose lock had yielded to his cunning keys, the girlpaused and confronted Lanyard spiritedly as he came up with heavy step andhang-dog head. 

"Well, monsieur?" she demanded. "Do you mean to tantalize me longer withyour reticence?"

But something in the haggard eyes he showed her made the girl catch herbreath. 

"What is it?" she cried anxiously. "Monsieur Duchemin, what is yourtrouble?"

"Only this truth that I must tell you, " he said bitterly: "I merely playeda part back there, just now. There was neither wit nor guess-work in thatbusiness; once I had seen Blensop's panic over the fancied loss of his pen, the rest was knowledge. I saw him and Ekstrom together last night--skulkingin those windows, I watched them; and though in my denseness I didn'tunderstand, I saw him write upon that pad, tear off and give the sheet toEkstrom. And I knew Ekstrom had not succeeded in stealing back what he hadsold to Colonel Stanistreet, knew he was guiltless in fact if not in deed. "

"But--how could you know that?"

"Because I was there, in the room, when he entered it after it had beenshut up for the night. "

Conscious of her hands that fluttered like wounded things to her bosom, helooked away in misery. 

"What were you doing there?" she whispered in the end. 

"Trying to find that paper, which I had seen Ekstrom sell to ColonelStanistreet, so that I might make good my promise and relieve your distressby returning it to you. I had opened the safe before he entered, andsearched it thoroughly, and knew the paper was not there--though at thattime it never entered my thick head to suspect Blensop of treachery. Itwas neither Blensop nor Ekstrom, Miss Brooke ... It was I who stole thatnecklace. "

She made no sound and did not stir; and though he dared not look he knewher stricken gaze was steadfast to his face. 

"I will say this much in my defence: I did not come with intent to steal, but only to take back what had been stolen from me, and return it to you, who had trusted it to my care. I wanted to do that, because I did not thenunderstand the ins and outs of this intrigue, and had no means of knowinghow deeply your honour might be involved. "

"But you did _not_ take that necklace!"

"I am sorry.... I saw it, and could not resist it. "

"But Mr. Crane assured me you had given up all that sort of thing yearsago!"

"Notwithstanding that, it seems I may not be trusted.... "

After another trying silence she declared vehemently: "I do not believeyou! You say this thing for some secret purpose of your own. For somereason I can't understand you wish to abase yourself in my sight, to makeme think you capable of such infamy. Why--ah, monsieur!--why must you dothis?"

"Because it isn't fair to represent myself as what I am not, mademoiselle. Once a thief, always--"

"No! It isn't true!"

"Again I am sorry, but I know. You have been most generous to believe inme. If anything could save me from myself, it would be your confidence. That, I presume, is why I felt called upon to undo my thieving, and makegood the loss. The money Colonel Stanistreet paid Ekstrom is now in thesafe, back there in the library. The necklace is ... Here. "

Blindly he thrust the tissue packet into her hands. 

"If you will consent to return it to its owner, when I have gone, I shallbe most grateful. "

Her hands shook so that, when she would open the packet, it escaped hergrasp and dropped into a little pool of rain-water which had collected ina hollow of the walk. Lanyard picked it up, stripped off the soiled andsodden paper, dried the necklace with his handkerchief, replaced it in herhand. 

He heard the deep intake of her breath as she recognized its beauty, thenher quavering voice: "You give this back because of me... !"

"Because I cannot be an ingrate. I know no other way to prove how I haveprized your faith in me.... And now, with your leave, I will go awayquietly by this garden gate--"

"No--please, no!"

"But--"

"I have more to say to you. It isn't fair of you to go like this, when I--"

She interrupted herself, and when next she spoke he was dashed by a changein her voice from a tone of passionate expostulation to one of amusedanimation. 

"Colonel Stanistreet!" she called clearly. "Do come here at once, please!"

Startled, Lanyard saw that Stanistreet had appeared in the French windowsin company with Crane. In response to Cecelia's hail both came out into thegarden, Stanistreet briskly leading, Crane lounging at his heels, champinghis cigar, his weathered features knitted against the brightness of thesun. 

"Good morning, Miss Brooke. Howdy, Lanyard--or are you Duchemin again?" hesaid; but his salutations were lost in the wonder excited by the girl'snext move. 

"See, Colonel Stanistreet, what we have found!" she cried, and showed himthe necklace. "I mean, what Monsieur Duchemin found. It was he who saw it, lying beneath that rose-bush over there. Your burglar must have dropped itin making his escape; you can see the paper he wrapped it in, all rain-wetand muddied. "

Stanistreet's eyes protruded alarmingly, and his face grew very red beforehe found breath enough to ejaculate: "God bless my soul!" Breathing hard, he accepted the necklace from Cecelia's hands. "I must--excuse me--I musttell my sister-in-law about this immediately!"

He turned and trotted hastily back into the house. 

Crane lingered but a moment longer. His cheek, as ever, was bulging roundhis everlasting cigar. Was his tongue therein as well? Lanyard never knew;the man's eyes remained inscrutable for all the kindly shrewdness thatglimmered amid their netted wrinkles. 

"Excuse _me_!" he said suddenly. "I got to tell the colonel something. "

He got lankily into motion and presently passed in through the windows.... 

Irresistibly her gaze drew Lanyard's. He lifted careworn eyes and realizedher with a great wistfulness upon him. 

She awaited in silence his verdict, her chin proudly high, her faceadorably flushed, her shining eyes level and brave to his, her generoushands outstretched. 

"Must you go now?" she said tenderly, as he stood hesitant and shamed. "Must you go now, my dear?"

THE END